


Fractured Harmony

by SoonToBeCyborg



Series: The Ancient Music [3]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Don't copy to another site, Dubious Consent, Happy Ending in the face of cosmic danger, Humansider, Limb loss, M/M, Terminal Illnesses, and it's not between the main pairing, background Emily Kaldwin/Alexi Mayhew, but i'll include notes on those chapters with what exactly that entails, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2019-11-08 20:16:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 90,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17987846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoonToBeCyborg/pseuds/SoonToBeCyborg
Summary: Fifteen years ago, Corvo Attano held his daughter in his arms and told her Daud would never harm anyone again. He let her assume his meaning rather than tell her the shameful truth. Ten years ago, a great disruption in the Void sent ripples over the world and on Shindaerey Peak, something sleeping for four thousand years awoke. The Outsider chose to keep Corvo ignorant and out of danger. But our choices always matter to someone, somewhere. And sooner or later, in ways we can't always fathom, the consequences come back to us.





	1. Chapter 1

**28 Songs, 1850, 11:55pm**

 

The moment those words spilled from his lips, Corvo wished he could put them back. Emily’s chin trembled. She looked like a little girl again, one who’d just had her world ripped apart.

When she finally spoke, it was one word. “Why?”

Corvo didn’t have an answer.

Her breathing came in quick gasps. “But what I saw in the Void— he was bleeding and backed into a corner.” She locked eyes with him. “You had him! So, why?” She hissed through her teeth, “Too honorable to finish a wounded man?”

“No.”

Wild-eyed, she shoved his chest and screamed, “Then why is Daud still alive?”

“Because I froze!” he cried. “I just stood there… and…” And then Daud was gone. Corvo wiped his watering eyes. “You don’t have anything to fear from him. I keep my ear to the ground, and he hasn’t gone back to his old ways.”

Emily recoiled and her lips curled up in a snarl. “I don’t care! I don’t care if he’s spent his years nursing sick orphans and helping old women carry groceries. He murdered mother and you didn’t even chase him?”

“I had to save you from Havelock!”

Emily paused. “What about after? Why didn’t you tear the Isles apart to find him?”

“You were more important to me than revenge!” Corvo took a step towards her but Emily moved away. “I couldn’t leave your side. For years, it was all I could do outwit assassins and keep your rivals from ousting you.”

She bit her lip and seemed to consider that. “But once things settled down you could have looked for him.” Her eyes snapped to his and Emily’s face was as hard as Corvo had ever seen it. “At the very least, you could have told me he was still alive before now!”

She shoved him. Then she shoved him again. And again.

Corvo absorbed each blow as it came. Flat palms against his chest. Closed fists against his shoulders. A sharp jab to the solar plexus. With every strike, Emily screeched like a wounded animal. Each blow had more force behind it than the last, until…

The clock on the wall chimed midnight. Outside, the Abbey signaled the beginning of the Fugue Feast. 1850 was over. 1851 would begin the morning after next. And until then…

Emily’s arm froze mid-swing. She’d just realized why he’d chosen this moment to confess. Her arm went limp at her side and Emily’s face shuttered. She turned away from him without a word.

Corvo followed her dutifully to the safe room where Alexi was already waiting, questions in her eyes. She’d heard the commotion from the other room, no doubt. But she kept her emotions locked behind a professional mask.

Emily didn’t speak a word as she unlocked the safe room with her signet ring. But before Emily closed the door, she glanced back.

“Every other secret you kept from me, even when you were wrong, you did it for my protection. So, I forgave you. But this…” she hissed. “This secret only protected you.”

* * *

**No Date Recorded**

 

Daud woke to the sound of a sharp crack somewhere upstairs and a tremble in the foundation of the house. Either the nearby festivities were getting out of hand, or something was wrong.

He threw back the thick blanket on his cot and took a deep breath. The air lacked the icy bite he’d grown accustomed to the last few weeks. It was warm in the secret basement room. Daud frowned. It wasn’t supposed to be. Even at the height of the Tyvian summer, this smuggler’s stash room was little better than an icebox.

Something was definitely wrong.

Daud slung the strap of his large duffel bag across his chest and checked to make sure the knife was securely belted inside his coat. It was a strange looking thing— two-pronged and longer than a dagger, but shorter than a proper sword. It gave him the creeps. But as much trouble as he’d gone through to find it, Daud wanted to make damn sure not to lose the thing.

He unlatched the deadbolt on his door. The basement was even warmer than his tiny room and he smelled a hint of smoke.

“Shit.”

Daud hurried up the stairs and shouldered open the door to the main room. Thick plumes of smoke hung in the air like orange clouds. This was no normal fire. Some sort of chemicals had been used to ignite the house.

He adjusted his vision and looked through the ceiling into the upper floor bedrooms. Oksana and Mikhail were in bed. They weren’t breathing. But in the room next to theirs, Daud could see faint twitches of movement in their teenage son, Misha. The boy was still alive!

Upstairs, Daud hurried through the noxious fumes and fingers of flame creeping along the walls. The fire was spreading fast. He shouldered open the door to Misha’s room and slammed it shut behind him to keep the worst of the smoke out. He tried to shake Misha awake but the boy didn’t budge. He’d lost consciousness from the fumes. He was still breathing though, and he might live if Daud got him to fresh air.

But Daud hesitated. He knew who set this fire, and they’d close their trap if he spent time trying to get Misha to safety. If he ran, he could save himself.

The mercenaries on his heels were good— best in the Isles— but they didn’t have the Outsider’s gifts. They couldn’t transverse across rooftops or see through walls, pull objects across a room or slow time to a crawl.

Their only strength was Daud’s one weakness. Numbers. Ever since his bond to the Whalers was severed, he’d been alone. The Harpooners on the other other hand, had dozens within their ranks.

Daud took shallow breaths in the smoky room. Oksana and Mikhail may have been smugglers, but they’d also been pretty damn good to him. It’d been weeks since they took him in, exhausted and desperate, with mercenaries hot on his heels. The Harpooners had men at every port and bribed sailors on every ship coming and leaving Tyvia. These smugglers took a big risk letting him hole up in their basement while they waited for the Harpooners to leave an opening.

Less noble criminals would have saved themselves the hassle and turned him over. But they’d accepted Daud’s coin, and promised to smuggle him off the island.

Oksana and Mikhail paid for that loyalty with their lives. The least he could do in return was help their boy. No one else was going to render aid or put out the fire. Not on this night.

A quick look through the walls revealed men on the rooftops across from the front and rear of the house. There were more in the side alley below. The only clear escape route was via the rooftop across from Misha’s bedroom. Daud couldn’t see anyone laying in wait, but the clear path to freedom was too good to be true. Still, there was no where else to go.

And now Daud had to make a choice. Quickly.

Daud cursed as he hefted the boy over his shoulder and kicked the shutters open. Then he clenched his left hand, and moved.

The center of the rooftop was clear when he appeared in a puff of magic, and Daud immediately saw why there were no men guarding the area— stun mines ringed the perimeter. If he moved even five feet in any direction he’d get hit with a jolt of electricity. Not that Daud couldn’t try to move instantly outside their range, but he needed to focus on the boy for now.

Misha’s chest wasn’t rising and falling against his shoulder any longer. He felt for Misha’s pulse. It was faint. He flipped the boy on his back and pinched his nose shut. Daud took deep lungfuls of the night air and pumped them into the boy’s lungs.

“Come on, kid.”

He took another breath. Then another. And another.

Finally, the boy took a shallow gasp. Daud placed his ear flat against Misha’s narrow chest. His lungs sounded like they were full of gravel. He’d inhaled a lot of smoke, but he’d live.

Hopefully.

Daud heard the clanking ladders and scraping of climbing hooks a moment before the mercenaries clamored up to the rooftop. He could still fight them, and he’d probably win. He could definitely outrun them. But the Harpooners were not honoring their famous “code of ethics” tonight— they’d made that abundantly clear— and Misha was still unconscious and vulnerable.

A man approached to his right. Then another to his left. And in front. Every few seconds another one climbed onto the rooftop until there were a dozen men surrounding him.

“The boy isn’t part of this,” Daud growled.

Someone behind him clucked a tongue. “You made him and his family a part of it by hiding under their skirts like a coward.”

Daud calculated his odds— six guns guns trained on him, and another six on Misha. He could bend time and stop the bullets. Hopefully. Then he could escape the ring of mines with a transversal. Probably. But doing it all with Misha slung over his shoulder…

“Don’t even think about running or whatever magic you do,” the man at his back growled. “We’ll kill the boy if you so much as twitch.”

“That’s not how the Harpooners operate.”

“Ah! But we’re not the Harpooners tonight! Are we men?”

The gathered mercenaries chuckled, faces lit by the fire blazing in the building behind him. The Fugue Feast never failed to reveal the monsters lurking within supposedly good men.

“This past year has been the longest of my life,” the mercenary captain snarled. “An entire year of passing on other jobs to chase you, letting our coffers run dry, and nearly ruining this company’s image. But it’ll all be worth it for you.”

Daud took a look around the ring of men and saw threadbare clothes, thin faces, and worn equipment. Not what he’d expect from the highest paid mercenaries in the Isles.

“Too busy swooning after me to chase other bounties?” Daud mocked. “I’m flattered.”

Daud felt the barrel of a gun press sharply against the back of his neck.

“Your bounty is half a million coin. My share of that can set me up for years, and my men too. Not to mention the boost to our reputation.” The man chuckled. “1852’s gonna be a good year.”

Daud blinked. Half a million? No wonder the Harpooners chased him with such focus, to the exclusion of all else.

“But she won’t pay a single coin for a corpse. Orders are to take you alive and deliver you relatively unharmed. ‘No permanent injuries.’” The man slid the barrel to the back of Daud’s shoulder. “It’s a long trip to Dunwall. And wounds heal.”

Daud felt a prick in his skin and tried not to smirk. A dart gun. They’d just injected him with a sedative. Lucky for him, common sedatives barely affected him. The smart move was to play along, let the Harpooners relax, then surprise them and escape.

Daud swayed on his knees, as if dizzy, and let himself fall forward. It was difficult not to catch himself on his hands but he needed to sell it. He didn’t save the boy’s life just to watch him get shot a minute later.

Misha didn’t deserve any of this. But then, when had that ever mattered in life?

Daud closed his eyes and listened to the shuffling of boots as the men collected the stun mines and holstered their weapons. Someone grabbed his wrists and pulled them behind his back to secure him in cuffs. That’s when Daud struck!

…

That’s when Daud…

He tried to move his arms but nothing happened! His limbs felt like lead and when he tried to open his eyes, the lids wouldn’t respond. He began to feel dizzy in earnest.

“I guess that concoction really worked,” he heard one of the Harpooners comment.

“Thank fuck. I was afraid it wouldn’t be strong enough. I guess that chemist wasn’t lying about potency.”

Daud felt the cuffs lock into place and a tingling sensation spread over his hands. The metal had some sort of charm incorporated into them, not that he could test his bonds now.

“Let’s still hurry. No telling how long it’ll be before we have to dose him again.”

“Are we really gonna rely on drugs and charmed iron to contain him for a full month while we sail back to Dunwall?” another asked. “Seems risky.”

_Idiots_ , Daud thought as they dragged him away. If they were relying on drugs and irons for an entire month he’d get the upper hand eventually. Maybe he’d build a resistance to the sedative. Or slip out of the manacles. Either way, they’d pay for what they did tonight, Fugue Feast be damned. The Harpooners needed to learn that their actions had consequences, no matter what the calendar date.

Daud felt warmth on his skin as his captors carried him past the burning house. He wished he could tell them to at least put a blanket over Misha. Tyvian summers were still cold at night and the boy only had on his sleeping clothes. Poor kid. He was going to wake up to damaged lungs and a dead family.

Daud wondered what he’d wake up to.


	2. Chapter 2

**1 Earth, 1852**

Daud drifted back to consciousness slowly. The muscles in his shoulder burned from the injection and he could barely hear a thing over the ringing in his ears. Whatever the Harpooners drugged him with had some nasty side effects.

He flexed his hands and found they were still cuffed behind his back, but he could see about breaking free of those in a few minutes. He just needed to open his eyes.

 _Open your damn eyes,_ Daud thought to himself. The lids were heavy and when he finally pried them open the surroundings were not what he’d expected.

He was in the belly of a ship— that part wasn’t a surprise. But he was also caged within an unusual prison cell. Its bars glowed with a strange energy, obscuring his view into the cargo bay. Waves of light shimmered before his eyes like a mirage at sea, the kind that could tempt sailors to navigate their ships the wrong direction for hours, swearing they could see land but never gaining ground on the illusion.

“Guess they had more than darts and irons after all,” he grumbled.

Daud strained to sit upright, shifting his legs underneath him. That’s when he felt it! The weight of his coat was unbalanced!

The knife was gone!

It made sense for the Harpooners to disarm him, but Daud swore under his breath and knocked his head against the bars of his cell. He’d spent well over a year looking for the Void-be-damned thing! Then he’d spent weeks trying to get out of Tyvia with it! Now some Harpooner had taken it as a trophy!

Granted, Daud had no idea what the knife really was or why it was important. But he’d had enough exposure to the arcane to feel it was powerful in ways those mercenaries couldn’t control.

“You’re in some deep shit, old man.”

Daud startled at the voice! It was difficult to see clearly beyond the bars and his vision blurred when he tried to focus his eyes, but he’d know that voice anywhere!

“Billie?”

She chuckled. “How’d you wind up in this fine mess?”

“How did you…” He tried to twist his arms free. “How are you here?”

“I’ve been looking for you. You’re a hard man to find.”

Daud snorted. “Not hard enough apparently.” He paused. “Wait. You’re not…”

“With the Harpooners? Fuck no.” She rolled her shoulder out and sat by the bars. “But I can’t sail a ship this size by myself, so I’ll have to wait until we’ve docked before I move on them. Figured I’ll hide down here with you until then, if that’s alright.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes and Daud took comfort in the feeling of her company. It was nice, not being alone. Though he’d never tell her that.

“So, what’ve you been up to?” she asked, wry smile on her face.

“Small talk, Billie? Really?”

“May as well!” She waved her arms around. “Come on, Daud. Help us kill some time.”

Daud shook his head and laughed. He supposed she was right. And Billie deserved to know what he’d been doing.

“What have I been up to, huh? Well, I’ve been running errands for the black-eyed bastard with mercenaries hot on my heels. Though I don’t actually think the two are related.”

“Sounds like a good story.” Billie pulled up a chair and draped herself across the backrest.

“After Delilah took Emily to court, I felt responsible.” Daud sighed. “I swear I took care of that witch all those years ago, Billie. She was sucked into the Void. I saw it! But maybe that only made her more powerful in the end, because she didn’t die from it like I thought.”

He groaned and adjusted his seating position. “When the Abbey said they killed her, I didn’t believe it. After all, I thought I’d killed her, too! So, I sucked up my pride and kneeled at a shrine. For the first time in almost thirteen years I went to him.”

“Just like that?” Billie asked. “You just kneeled at a shrine and…”

Daud chuckled. “You still wanna know what he smells like?”

Billie shrugged.

“Well, when he came to me this last time… something was wrong. The Void was a damn mess! I never told you much about it before, did I? But now…”

How to even describe what he saw there? What he felt? The Void he knew from all those years ago had been electric with energy, vibrating beneath the veneer of an endless blue serenity. Now, all that light had faded to black and grey, and the energy was a sluggish pulse. But that wasn’t all that’d changed.

“The Outsider seemed different, too. When I asked about Delilah’s fate he actually answered me! No riddles or metaphors. He didn’t make any cryptic comments about my flaws. He just told me Delilah was imprisoned and won’t ever escape.” Daud coughed into his shoulder. “No prison is escape-proof, but I didn’t feel like arguing with him.”

“And then?” she asked.

“And then he asked if I would be _willing_ to do him a favor. Can you believe that? He asked me like a…” Like a normal person. That was the most disturbing part of the interaction honestly.

“He showed me what I was looking for, roughly where it ‘landed’, and the series of people likely to find it. And I chased a fucking knife all the way to Tyvia.”

“Is it valuable? Powerful?”

“No idea. But I needed to do it. The Outsider was the one who pointed me at Delilah all those years ago. If I’d been smarter about getting rid of her, she’d never have come back and attacked Emily a second time. This time, the Outsider was desperate enough to be direct about what he wanted. Whatever that knife is for, I don’t want it in the wrong hands. Maybe I was hoping to make up for my failure all those years ago. And failed again.”

Billie looked to the cargo bay doors. “Well the Harpooners have it now, I guess.”

“I doubt they even know what it is. We’ll get it back when you spring me.”

“You mean, the Harpooners weren’t after the knife? They wanted _you_ and got it by accident?”

Daud nodded. “There’s a bounty on my head. I’d have been out of Tyvia weeks ago if they hadn’t been sniffing around. Finally found some smugglers I could trust, but they…”

Billie scratched under her chin. “I haven’t seen any wanted posters.”

“It’s a private contract offered to the Harpooners only. Emily’s dropping a chunk of her fortune to find me.” Daud hung his head. “I wonder what pissed her off after all these years? Why send them after me now?”

He’d never been pursued by anyone like the Harpooners. They were smart, experienced, and relentless. But they had a code. Daud used it against them at every opportunity, taking shelter with civilians and putting them between him and the mercenaries. The Harpooners always backed off to avoid taking innocent lives.

Until the Fugue Feast.

“After Delilah reared her head, Emily must have decided to settle her old scores. Or maybe Corvo made the call. Could be he figured it was time to fix his mistake. I didn’t deserve his mercy and he finally realized it.”

Billie stood up and paced the length of the hold. “Interesting. We assumed that you’d faked your death somehow and had only recently been revealed to be alive.” She examined something in her hand. Something she’d been holding this entire time, but Daud had failed to notice. “But Corvo Attano knew you were alive all along?”

Daud’s blood turned to ice. “You’re not Billie.”

He heard the whirring of a generator nearby and the small whining sound as it switched from an empty tank of whale oil to a fresh one. The power waned just long enough for his thoughts to clear.

The woman standing in front of him was not Billie Lurk. She never had been. And she was holding the Outsider’s knife! The woman flipped it in her hand, testing the balance.

“That sedative the Harpooners gave you must have had some side effects.” She pursed her lips. “Wish we’d thought to take their supply. But as you can see—” She waved at the strange cage. “We came prepared with our own containment solution.”

The woman wore merchant-class clothing, but just above her clavicle she bore a strange tattoo. She wasn’t one of the Harpooners, and with half a million coin on the line, they wouldn’t have handed him over to an intermediary for even a moment.

Something happened to the Harpooners while he was unconscious. Someone else had him now. And whoever these people were, they were far better equipped to keep him captive.

“Now you’re going to collect my bounty instead of the Harpooners?”

“No, Daud. Money is a worldly concern. And we have bigger plans.”

* * *

**1852, One of the cold months**

It was difficult for Daud to gauge how long he’d been in his prison cell. Some days dragged on for an eternity, while others flashed by in a snap. There were other, rarer moments when time didn’t pass at all— when the cosmos hung suspended before him, every moment frozen in an infinite still life portrait.

He was probably losing his mind.

Constant exposure to whatever this energy was had to be doing some sort of harm. Yet, through the haze, Daud found it difficult to care about things like the future. Or the past.

Time was a construct. Daud wasn’t sure how he knew that, but a deep understanding of these things had begun growing inside of him.

He’d been in a ship’s cargo hold for a while, then transferred to a new place with a similar apparatus to keep him contained. The woman from before— he learned her name was Jeanette Lee— was in charge of keeping him. But she wasn’t the one asking the questions.

Daud saw three interrogators over the course of the last several… weeks? No, judging by their clothing it had been months. They were almost certainly in Serkonos — he caught a glimpse of a brand of rum that you could only get in Karnaca— and since his captors switched to long-sleeved shirts recently, that meant it was winter in the south. So, Daud figured he’d been their prisoner for almost half a year.

The interrogators had to turn down the intensity of the energy field before Daud was lucid enough to understand their questions and reply. Still too weak to fight back, he settled for gathering information while he was aware enough to do it. Anything he picked up about his captors could be useful when he found a chance to escape.

There was only one problem: all of his interrogators looked alike.

They weren’t in disguises. Some part of Daud recognized that they had distinct faces and physical attributes. But the longer he sat in this cage, the harder it was to tell anyone apart. They were all just human. Small. Compressed. Points of energy flaring to life before flickering out. He couldn’t identify his captors in a lineup, but over time Daud learned about who they were by… feel.

The first of his interrogators was a coiled knot of a man, all tension and vibration, restless energy going nowhere like a hound straining on its chain. He read questions from a set of notecards pulled from his jacket pocket and made sure to not to deviate from what he had planned to ask. The questions always focused on the topic of death.

“What happens to the spirit as it leaves the body? How does it travel to the Void? What happens further upon reaching its destination?”

Daud shrugged. “Why don’t you kill yourself and find out?”

The next interrogator felt every bit as restless as the first. But rather than a tight knot of a man, this one’s energy expanded and contracted at regular intervals. It reminded Daud of beating wings. This one longed to soar like a bird, to expand his horizons and stay aloft forever. Something about him seemed familiar. Perhaps they’d met?

The familiar one’s questions were less structured than the restless man’s notecards, and much more confusing.

“What does the Void sound like?” he asked several times. “What does it _feel_ like to be there? Not physically. Emotionally. Do you grow to fill that space or shrink in the presence of such vastness? Is it like flying or falling? Singing or screaming?”

“Uh,” Daud replied. “Yes.”

The last interrogator was ice. Cold and still. Daud didn’t experience many strong emotions in his prison— everything he was used to feeling seemed muted and hollow— but whenever that woman turned her focus on him, he felt like an insect pinned to a board.

Her questions had more to do with the Outsider as a being rather than the Void itself. “Does the Outsider age? Is he a being of flesh or pure spirit? Both? Can he shift between one or the other?”

Once she even asked, “How long do Marked people typically live?”

Daud chuckled. “You tell me.”

And while Daud seemed incapable of distinguishing his captors faces from one another, he did notice that they all had the same unique variation of the gang’s tattoo. Daud had _only_ seen it on these three, not on Lee or any of her henchmen who came through to tend him. So, he’d assumed they were the leaders of this operation.

Until he overheard an odd conversation…

They’d finished with him for the time being but hadn’t turned the energy field back up to its highest settings yet, so Daud was still somewhat aware of his surroundings. That’s when he heard the ice woman grumbling.

“There’s been discussion about the logistics involved in transporting Daud to the mine. The Ascended want to have a go at him, given our lack of progress.”

“I thought it was only the artifact they wanted!” cried the familiar one. “Daud was a lucky find and they agreed to let us have him! We need a reliable source of knowledge about the Void. And until we ascend, he’s all we have!”

“Not that’s he’s been in a sharing mood,” the restless man hissed.

The ice woman drummed her fingers along her jaw. “We could try drugging him. Jeanette said he wouldn’t shut up in the ship when he thought he was talking to one of his old friends.”

“Did you know Lee actually wanted to use him for her fights?” said the familiar one.

“Against normal people?” Restless man shook his head. “Where’s the sport in that?”

Daud’s mind swam away before he could hear the rest of it. Still, he tried to hold on to this new information. Could be useful.

Time passed. He wasn’t sure how much. It didn’t matter.

But then, suddenly, it did.

Daud’s gnarled fingers clenched into fists as his entire being condensed into a single point of existence in time and space. For a brief moment, it was the most horrible thing he’d ever experienced. He was small and compressed. Collapsing in on himself. Trapped within flesh. He opened his mouth to scream. But instead, he took a breath.

Air filled his lungs and the panic receded. His thoughts, though small, became clear.

Daud exhaled and took stock of his surroundings.

The bars of his cage weren’t pulsing with that strange energy, but the locks were still secured. He flexed his left hand and welcomed the tingling magic of the Void like an old friend. Daud appeared on the other side of the bars in a flash, but his cocky smile faded when the world tipped sideways.

He caught himself on the wall and took a moment to steady his legs. He had no idea how long it’d been since he stood under his own power, but the weakness in his muscles suggested that the last strenuous thing he did was kick the shutters out of Misha’s window.

Once he felt strong enough to move again, Daud took a look around. There were no windows in the room. The walls were cold, with a hint of dampness. He was in a basement. A deep one. The room was empty except for his prison cell and some thick cables that ran from the bars through the ceiling overhead, probably connecting it to a power source.

“Guess the whale oil tanks ran low,” he muttered to himself.

And as soon as someone noticed, there’d be reinforcements coming. He had to move.

The thick metal door across from his cell was the obvious exit, but a glance through the door showed it had seven different locks and reinforced hinges. Even at his best, he wouldn’t be breaking it down. The air vent above the door was the better option, anyway.

He pulled the vent free with a tug of magic and then grabbed the edge of the opening to test the strength in his arms. Daud pulled himself up… and immediately lost his grip. He landed on his ass. He tried again but the muscles in his arms were too weak. Good to know.

Daud transversed into the vent over the door and shuffled forward on his elbows as quietly as he could. He had to escape quickly, but he couldn’t give away his position by making too much noise. Transversal in such narrow spaces risked bumping his head, so he moved around the old fashioned way.

The vent angled upwards at the end of the hall and Daud cursed under his breath as he wedged himself into the corner to climb. His joints ached terribly and he stopped to rest when the vent leveled out again. Daud spent several minutes laying face down in the narrow space, breathing the dusty air and trying to think. Normally, he’d be planning five or six moves ahead but his thoughts still felt foreign in his own skull.

When his muscles stopped burning, Daud risked a peek through a nearby grate. It was dark below, but he could make out the shape of a boxing ring and several bodies strewn around the room.

His stomach dropped. What happened down there?

He continued through the vent and peered into a locker room with showers. Two more people were down, and through the wall he could make out the silhouette of someone searching the bodies! When the mystery person left the locker area and headed to the back of the building— towards the basement, he realized— Daud resumed crawling.

Someone was clearing this place out, top to bottom, and he didn’t want to be next.

Eventually, he found an exit above a wide staircase. It was far too open to risk exposing himself, but he couldn’t turn around to find an alternate route. He could barely move in the small space. Daud looked through the walls and as far up the stairs as his supernatural vision would allow. It was clear, at least in the immediate area.

He had to risk it.

Daud shouldered the grate open and tried to transverse down, but he lost his mental focus and the spell fizzled mid-fall. He dropped gracelessly to the floor with a thud. Pain shot up through his knees and he bit back a groan of agony.

Another body lay at the base of the stairs and Daud approached cautiously. The man’s chest rose and fell in shallow bursts. Were all those other bodies unconscious too?

Not wanting to stick around and find out, Daud smoothly relieved the man of his knife. He held tightly to the railing and shuffled towards a tall bay of windows. That had to be the exit!

Daud’s legs ached from the long climb up the stairs. But there, at the top, was definitely a door leading to the outside. He gripped the knife in his right hand and flexed his left. He had no idea if there were guards on duty at the entrance or what else might be waiting for him on the street.

“Daud?”

He whipped around, slashing in a wide arc towards the source of the voice. The woman leaped away and pulled a knife of her own, but didn’t move to strike.

“Hey!” she shouted. “It’s me! It’s Billie!”

“I’m not telling you a damn thing,” he hissed. “It doesn’t matter how you trick me. I have no loyalty to the Outsider, but you’re still not getting one scrap of information! You understand? You may as well just kill me!”

“Daud, you know me!”

He swayed on his feet. “I know who you want me to think you are!”

She lowered her weapon. “They really did a number on you, old man.”

He kept the knife extended towards her, even as his hand started to shake. “If this is another hallucination,” he slurred.

His vision bled dark around the edges. The stolen knife clattered to the floor and Daud hoped he wasn’t about to lose consciousness.

But then Billie was there, draping one of his arms over her shoulder as she hauled him to his feet. Was she that strong or was he far worse off than he’d thought? Surely they’d been feeding him, but if his baggy clothes were any indication, he’d lost a ton of weight.

When he came back to himself again they were in an alley across from an old building. The ironwork over the gate read _Albarca Baths_. Billie had him propped against some dumpsters, concern etched into her face.

“I’ve been searching for you for almost two years,” she said softly. “Whenever I got close, you’d move again.”

“Harpooners were after me,” he grumbled.

Billie’s face pinched. “Yeah. I heard about what happened to them.”

“Why? What happened? Last I remember they hit me with a dart and I was going under. Then I woke up in a cage with these new bastards asking questions.” Not that he needed Billie to paint a picture. “I guess they killed the Harpooners.” He shrugged. “Not losing sleep over that.”

“It was more that their bodies were found in hundreds of pieces rather than the murder itself that made the papers. But…” She shook her head. “It’s not important now. Now, we get you somewhere safe.”

She wrapped an arm around him and led him down a side street, abandoned this time of night.

“What’d you do to the people in that place?” he thought to ask.

Billie smirked. “I spiked their kegs.” She huffed a laugh. “You’d been a ghost for three months before I _finally_ figured out who had you. And I’ve spent the last three months getting close to the bartender, betting on the fights, and scouting the place as a customer. I copied George’s key to the keg room over a month ago and waited for a good time to act.”

She paused and readjusted her grip on him. “The rank and file all start the evening with a round of drinks, and I spiked the barrels with a slow-acting sedative. Nothing too strong or I’d have had people passing out before they finished their rounds. I came back later and locked the doors so I’d have the building to myself to look for you.”

And with everyone passed out, there’d been nobody to refill the whale oil tanks that powered his cage.

“Well, thanks for getting me out,” he said. “But I almost wish you hadn’t.”

“Excuse you?” Billie stopped in her tracks. “What sort of death-wish bullshit—”

“I mean, there’s more going on with this gang than just fights and shake downs. Something big is happening behind the scenes.”

Daud hesitated to tell her the full story about what he’d been tracking down for the Outsider. But at this point, he had nothing to lose. And if this was another hallucination, it wasn’t anything the gang didn’t already know.

“Billie, when these people captured me they were on the trail of something I’d found. A weapon.” He remembered the way Jeanette Lee had casually flipped the knife in her hand. The power he felt radiating off of that thing had been like a tingle under his skin. “From what I could overhear, they only kept me alive for information on the Void and the Outsider. But they already got what they were after, and I don’t know what they plan to do with it.”

Billie furrowed her brow. “What kind of weapon?”

“A knife.”

Billie raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? Just a knife?”

“There’s something special about it. The Outsider himself asked me to find the thing. It wasn’t easy, since I was busy running from the Harpooners while I chased it down. Plus, I never got a chance to go to a shrine and ask what I was supposed to do with the damn thing.”

Daud wondered what the Outsider would say if he kneeled at a shrine now. Would he want Daud to steal the knife back? Or would he turn that black gaze away after yet another failure?

Daud clenched his fists. “If we disappear, these people are free to do something terrible with it.”

They rounded the corner and Billie eased him onto a nearby bench. She sidled up beside him and ran a hand down her face. “You’re about to ask me to do something stupid, aren’t you?”

“How close are you and this bartender?”

Billie sighed. “Close but not ‘ _close’_. Why?”

“But close enough that when they all wake up and you’ve skipped town, it’ll be obvious who drugged them and rescued me.”

“And we’ll be long gone by then. I have a ship and—”

“Billie, they passed up half a million coin to keep me in a basement and ask questions. One of them said something about ‘the Ascended’, and a mine—”

Billie held up a flat palm to cut him off. “Let me see if I can guess where you’re going with this. These people have the money and resources to kidnap you from an experienced mercenary group, successfully hold you for months, have a supernatural weapon, and you want me to spy on them for you?”

Daud squeezed his eyes shut. She was right. It was insane. Billie had no reason to do any of this, least of all for him.

“Why were you looking for me anyway?” he asked. “I owe you some money I forget about?”

Billie tilted her head back and looked at the night sky. “You owe me more than money, Daud. But I forgave that debt when you spared me. We’re square.”

She angled herself to face him. “During Delilah’s coup, I had an opportunity to face some of the wrongs I’ve done. I had a chance to confess and either get forgiveness or judgement. And I ran like a coward.”

Daud shrugged. Who was he to judge?

Billie continued. “But as I was hauling anchor, I realized I had nothing to run towards. I’ve spent the last fifteen years pretending to be a better person but never actually doing anything good enough to tip the scales. Then I remembered there was someone else who knew _exactly_ what that was like. And maybe we could… I dunno, make some new choices together? Ones that won’t turn sour in our guts when we look back on them.”

Daud hummed. “Maybe we could turn over a new leaf? Make the world a better place?”

Billie huffed and shook her head. “Sounds even dumber when you say it.”

“I have that effect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to point out typos, etc! I am the WORST proofreader in the world.


	3. Chapter 3

**Dunwall. 28 Songs, 1852, 11:00pm**

The clock chimed eleven times behind Corvo’s head. The Fugue Feast was an hour away. He clenched his jaw as waves of dread washed over him. Tonight was a grim anniversary to both he and Emily.

“Is there anything else to cover?”

Corvo snapped his focus back to High Overseer Khulan. “No, that was everything that needed your attention.”

Khulan nodded and gathered his notes into a leather case. But Corvo called to him before he reached the office door.

“Are you sure you won’t shelter here? You don’t need to signal the start of the Feast or the sing Hymn of Atonement personally. It can be automated now. Just…” Corvo met his eyes. “Stay.”

Khulan sighed. “We’ve talked about this. If I hide at the Tower, I risk losing the few allies I have left among my brothers.”

“And during the ‘festivities’ is the perfect time for Cardoza’s men to make a move.” Corvo stepped between Khulan and the door. “The Abbey can’t afford to lose you.”

Khulan soured. “You can’t afford the Abbey to lose me.” But he quickly shook his head. “I’m sorry, Corvo. That wasn’t fair.”

Overturning Corvo’s heresy conviction had cost Khulan greatly. Even the Overseers who’d believed the story about Corvo’s innocence made the argument— later, once the Empress wasn’t standing over them— that Corvo should have been executed “for appearances sake.” Overturning convictions, they believed, made the Abbey look weak.

Roaming Vice Overseer Cardoza was Khulan’s most vocal opponent and openly petitioned for his removal as High Overseer. But as unpopular as Khulan was nowadays, Cardoza was equally as unliked within the ranks. He hadn’t gained as much traction as Corvo had feared, but it was still enough to make him worry for his friend.

“Overseers have disappeared during the Fugue Feast before,” Khulan said. He made deliberate eye contact with Corvo. “Francis Perry was said to have fought an incarnation of the Outsider. Then he disappeared during the Fugue Feast and was never found.” He swallowed. “Do I have anyone _other_ than Cardoza to worry about?”

“Of course not.” Corvo placed a hand on Khulan’s shoulder. “If it’s any comfort, I think he likes you.”

Khulan raised an eyebrow. “That is not a comfort.” He sighed. “But it’s not the horror it would have been a few years ago.” He moved to the window.

The city was lit up in ominous preparation. It reminded Corvo of thousands of glowing eyes in the dark. The morning after next, Dunwall would have a mess to clean up and several unexpected bodies to bury if the murder count remained steady.

“I’m at risk because of what I did for you,” Khulan said after a long silence. He held his hands up for quiet when Corvo opened his mouth. “Don’t say you’re sorry. I know I did the right thing. But that should bring a man peace in his heart and order to the world around him. And yet, the opposite is true.”

Khulan stepped back from the window and shook Corvo’s hand in parting. “I don’t like what that tells me about the world we live in.”

_Neither do I,_ Corvo thought, and saw him to the door. He hoped to hear Khulan’s voice singing the Hymn of Atonement the morning after next.

Corvo straightened his office and glanced at the clock. He still had time to make the rounds before he saw Emily off. He locked the door and headed down the hall.

Guards saluted as he passed. Corvo held the eyes of every man and woman on duty, as if he could read their hearts with his own. After the fight with Delilah, he no longer had Jessamine’s spectral echo to summon into his hand. He hoped his trust in these people wasn’t misplaced.

Legally, there was nothing he could do to guarantee staff loyalty less than an hour from now. But two things encouraged the continued obedience of Tower Personnel in the face of sanctioned anarchy: the promise of a large reward— the New Year bonus— and the threat that if any one of them skirted their duties by looting or leaving the Tower defenseless… Corvo Attano would know. And he would _remember_.

Corvo felt a familiar presence beside him as he rounded the corner, and he ducked into a spare room so they could speak.

“Going out again this year?” he asked the empty room.

Cecelia appeared at his side with a grin. Her sudden manifestations stopped being a surprise long ago, but it never failed to make Corvo smile.

“The last two Feasts went well. Don’t see why not.” Cecelia tugged the hood of her jacket over her head. “The Phantom of Barrowe Street is watching,” she said in a faux-spooky tone.

The Phantom of Barrowe Street was a moniker some locals had given the strange woman who appeared out of nowhere during the Fugue Feast to bestow aid on those in need, and then vanished as soon as the recipients of her help blinked. If he didn’t have so much to keep his eyes on at the Tower, Corvo would have liked to go with her.

“Be careful,” he stressed. “I can’t afford to lose my best agent.”

She truly was the best he had. Her special ability helped tremendously, but even without it, Cecelia had taken to tradecraft like a duck to water. He’d even suggested an apprenticeship for her. After all, he couldn’t be the spymaster forever and he’d already begun training Alexi to replace him as Royal Protector.

But Cecelia had declined the offer. The position came with a lot of strings— a formal title, security council meetings, political scheming— that Cecelia desperately wanted to avoid. And so, she remained an invaluable agent and Corvo’s search for an apprentice continued.

“Don’t worry, Corvo. I’m not going to take any big risks. I never do. But I’ll help who I can. Safely.” She lifted a duffle bag over her shoulder. “I’m better prepared this year. I’ve got First Aid, medicines, herbs and teas to prevent pregnancy.” She patted Corvo’s hand. “I’m not jumping in front of bullets. I promise.”

Corvo nodded. “Good luck.”

He hated that she was putting herself at risk a third year in a row, but knew better than to forbid Cecelia to do anything. She was nothing if not careful. He’d see her when the feast ended. And until then, Corvo would have to remain wide awake and standing guard.

Corvo continued his rounds, tempted to slow time and drag out the process before he made his way to the throne room.

This Fugue Feast, as with the last two, would be sour with the memory of betrayal etched into Emily’s features as she hissed, “This secret only protected you.”

Those were the last words she’d spoken to him as a daughter. Emily still requested Corvo’s advice about important decisions and valued his input. She was perfectly civil in their meetings and never went out of her way to avoid him. But for the last two years, Corvo hadn’t had a daughter: he’d had an empress.

Emily’s outward indifference towards him was a constant ache in his chest.

Corvo’s stomach twisted in knots as the elevator ascended to the roof. It was his duty to see Emily inside her safe room with the guards of her choosing. That meant he needed to relieve Alexi so that she could sweep the area in time.

He knocked at Emily’s office and opened the door when she called for him to enter. She looked up briefly and gave him a courteous nod, then returned her focus to the papers on her desk.

“I’ll be finished shortly, Corvo.”

He took position by her side and Alexi took her leave with a soft smile.

The room remained silent except for the ticking clock on the wall.

After a few minutes, Corvo glanced at the papers Emily was rifling through. It was bad decorum to do so, but not illegal since he was also her spymaster and read all of her messages except those that were personal. But these documents didn’t look familiar. A sigil in the upper corner immediately told him why.

This was a matter Emily considered deeply personal: the hunt for Daud.

He would have helped her track Daud— he’d have done anything to close the distance between them—but Emily refused his assistance. Instead, she’d hired mercenaries.

With such a large bounty on the line, she was smart enough to know that friendly competitions between groups would turn deadly. So, she’d offered the contract to just one mercenary company in early 1851.

The Harpooners kept her updated regularly and chased Daud all over the Isles. Finally, they sent word in the Month of Songs that Daud was cornered in Dabokva and she could expect delivery near the end of the Month of Earth.

The Month of Earth came and went.

Emily sent an inquiry to the authorities in Tyvia about the Harpooners’ whereabouts. The response was the one Corvo had feared. A group of unidentified men were found in pieces at a local dock. With some digging and this new lead, the Tyvian authorities soon determined that the dead men _were_ the Harpooners.Given who they’d been hunting, the culprit was obvious.

Daud was also suspected of setting a fire that killed two people and left a teenage boy orphaned. The boy managed to survive the fire by leaping to the rooftop of a neighboring building. He also identified Daud as the man his parents agreed to smuggle out of Tyvia.

Corvo felt sick thinking about it. Daud had gone years without killing anyone. But now he was back to his old ways, if only when cornered.

After the Harpooners’ demise, Emily hired one mercenary group after another. None came close to finding Daud. Then, last month the Bloated Jellies sent word that they’d captured him!

Emily had been overjoyed! She moved the bounty money into an escrow account and awaited delivery. But the Bloated Jellies didn’t deliver Daud.

Instead, they presented Emily with a man who looked very similar to Daud’s wanted posters from fifteen years ago— scar and all— but lacked one unforgeable detail: the Mark.

Oh, they’d given that poor bastard a Mark of the Outsider. They’d even been patient enough to let the ink settle in so the tattoo didn’t look fresh. But the man the Bloated Jellies dumped at Emily’s feet was just a debtor who agreed to meet his death in exchange for a percentage of the bounty for his family.

The mercenaries’ prison sentences were not not light.

Anonymously, Emily paid the Daud lookalike’s debts.

Corvo knew she didn’t want to hear his opinions, but after that debacle he’d been compelled to speak. “Emily, the bounty is too high. That much money makes men stupid.”

She silenced him with a glare and Corvo didn’t bring it up again.

And now he watched from over her shoulder as she hired another mercenary group. If anyone actually succeed in capturing Daud, Corvo wasn’t sure what Emily intended to do once he was in custody. Kill him, probably. And if that’s what it took for her to find peace, Corvo wouldn’t shed a tear for that fiend. But he doubted Daud’s death would provide the closure Emily needed, and it would cost her half a million coin of her personal money. That was most of what she had to her name!

An Empress didn’t have a salary like a normal person, but nor did she have the expenses. Housing was provided, obviously. And the Tower had a food budget that provided meals to her and all staff. Emily had allowances for everything else: clothing, education, travel, leisure. Those funds came from the taxpayers.

But every ruler still collected some personal wealth over the years— gifts, dowries, inheritance. Euhorn had passed down some personal wealth to Jessamine, and then Jessamine to Emily. Jessamine had invested very wisely before she was killed. As a result, Emily’s entire fortune, though less than most nobles could boast, was significant.

And she was prepared to give it all away just to face Daud on her terms.

Corvo stole a glimpse of the clock over his shoulder and politely tapped Emily on hers.

“It’s nearly time.”

Emily sealed the rest of her papers in a thick envelope, then filed them away. When she rose smoothly and strode to the door, Corvo followed at her heels.

The safe room was just around the corner where Alexi already stood at attention. Emily extended her hand and twisted the signet ring lock. She didn’t even look at him as she stepped through the door, but Alexi grabbed her by the elbow and whispered in her ear. Corvo could only make out bits.

“You’ll regret— if you don’t— riots last year— what if something—”

He saw Emily pull her bottom lip between her front teeth. Few people could make the Empress of the Empire of Isles pout like girl, but Alexi Mayhew had a natural gift for it.

Corvo was still as a frightened deer when Emily rounded on him. He wasn’t sure what to expect when she stepped into his space and lifted her chin to lock eyes.

Then she flung her arms around his shoulders and buried her nose in his neck.

Corvo choked back a sob. He moved his arms slowly, in case she didn’t want the embrace to be retuned. But when he placed his hands on her back, she didn’t pull away. The breath he released shook his entire body and Emily squeezed tighter for a brief moment.

The clock struck twelve.

When Emily pulled back there were tears forming in the corners of her eyes, but her outward composure was mostly intact. Even without a mirror, Corvo knew he couldn’t make that claim.

She wiped his cheeks with the cuff of her sleeve.

“I love you,” she whispered, voice strained. “I’m still so angry. Sometimes I feel like I’m shaking apart from it, but I still love you. You’re my father and we…” She turned to Alexi, who lifted a hand as if to say _go on then._ Emily sighed. “When the Feast is over, I want to sit down and talk. About everything. This silence has gone on long enough.” 

Corvo barely managed a garbled affirmation through his trembling voice box.

Alexi stepped forward and clasped Emily’s shoulder. “Thank the Void that’s settled.” She steered Emily to the safe room. “Let’s get you inside.”

But Alexi looked over her shoulder as the door shut.

Corvo mouthed, _thank you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to point out any typos. I am the WORST proofreader.


	4. Chapter 4

No date recorded

 

Albarca Baths was packed to the rafters with people celebrating the end of 1852. But they weren’t the usual clientele. Most of the new faces tonight were law-abiding and stricture-fearing every day of the year. Save one.

Count on the ordinary citizens of Karnaca to watch some blood sport the moment man’s laws were suspended.

Billie, as one of the newest members of the Eyeless gang, was part of tonight’s bout. She checked the charm sewn into her belt. Each participant was allowed one bone charm during a fight and they had to disclose its properties beforehand. Given who her opponent was, Billie opted for a charm that granted partial resistance to pain.

Ramon, the brick house of a man across the ring, declared a charm that increased the force of his blows. She’d try to avoid taking any hits— back when he was Grand Guard, Ramon’s reputation was that of a slow slugger and Billie was optimistic that she could gas him out in a few rounds— but if she did have to absorb a blow or two, at least it wouldn’t distract her from the goal: submission.

Billie tested the balance of the wooden staff the gang had provided for her. She swung it experimentally through the air and felt the weight shift in her palms. Not bad. She could do some damage with this. But so could Ramon.

Lethal blows were not permitted tonight and enforcers were set up at the corners of the ring in case things got too heated. Still, Billie wasn’t comforted.

Tonight’s fight was basically an initiation, not unlike when she joined the Whalers. Under Daud, new members paired off to gauge each other’s strengths and weaknesses, let him see what they needed to improve, and of course… “group bonding.”

But brawls with the Eyeless were about proving yourself to Lee rather than improving each other.

Jeanette Lee took her place in the center of the ring and grabbed a corded microphone lowered from the ceiling.

“Welcome everyone, to Albarca Baths!”

The crowd’s roar shook the boards beneath Billie’s feet.

“In this corner,” she waved to Billie, “we have a new contender! Hailing from Bastillian and specializing in bladed weapons, I present Meagan Foster!”

The crowd replied with a mix of cheers and boos.

“And in this corner,” Lee announced with a toothy grin, “A local of Karnaca, specializing in fists. Ramon Velazquez!”

The deafening applause made it clear who the house favorite was going to be. Billie cracked her neck and stared across the ring. She’d taken down tougher men than him. And all she had to do was beat him badly enough he’d tap out.

Lee stepped out of the ring, microphone still in hand, and bellowed, “Fight!”

Ramon stomped straight towards Billie, but she was ready. He swung his staff and Billie dropped low, swinging her own staff upwards toward his chin in a smooth arc. The crack from the impact sent a shockwave down her arm and Billie sucked in a breath. That man’s jaw was hard as granite!

Ramon’s eyes glazed over for a moment, and Billie knew she’d hit the place boxers referred to as “the button.” But her victorious grin fell when Ramon’s eyes refocused! Billie rolled away an instant before he planted a foot so hard the wooden boards of the makeshift arena cracked! In a flash, his other foot made contact with the floor inches away from her face.

Billie jumped back to her feet and tried to put some distance between them, but Ramon kept coming. Billie narrowly dodged punches and kicks powerful enough to put holes in the ring.

This was wrong. Ramon wasn’t just too strong, he was too fast. Ramon had undisclosed bone charms!

Billie looked to the enforcers at the edges of the ring. _Come on you bastards_ , she thought. _You know he’s cheating! Call it off!_

Taking her eyes of the fight wasn’t a good idea, and an instant later her vision went white. Billie’s head felt detached from her body as she distantly realized Ramon’s staff had connected with the side of her skull. But pain was a hollow sensation thanks to the charm near her hip.

Billie struck back. She plunged the end of her staff into Ramon’s breadbasket, a move that should have driven all the air from his body and given her a moment to recover.

The staff bounced off his stomach and Ramon shrugged as if he’d been tapped with a pencil!

Now the ring enforcers knew something wasn’t right. They moved in with electrified darts but Ramon bobbed and weaved too quickly for them to get a shot. Those darts were expensive and apparently no one wanted to waste ammo.

Ramon kept coming. Billie took another blow to her right shoulder. The pain was minimal, but it only masked the damage. She felt her grip weaken and quickly switched hands to keep fighting. She cracked Ramon across the temple with a strike hard enough the impact could be heard over the chanting crowd. But the man simply shook it off.

Billie backed away. She needed to keep distance and let the enforcers get their shot. Ramon had extra charms hidden on him and the wild look in his eyes told her at least one of those charms was corrupted.

Someone fired an electrified dart but missed Ramon by inches. Then another. Finally one of the darts connected and his body seized.

Billie breathed a sigh of relief and three of Lee’s men climbed into the ring, stun guns trained on Ramon as he struggled to his feet. He leaned heavy on the weight of his staff, but one of his hands looked like it was stroking the hilt.

She noticed too late that he was twisting off a false cap.

The blade appeared in a flash and Ramon lashed out at the men surrounding him. Two of them jumped back in time but the third dropped to the floor with a slashed throat.

Ramon charged. There was nothing Billie could do but defend herself with a wooden staff.

She parried, but it took a chunk out of her weapon. The second parry cleaved the staff in half and Billie scrambled to keep the blade away from her head.

Why she raised her arm to shield her face, she’d never know. It was an act of pure instinct.

Her vision went dark on her right side and Billie tried to wipe away whatever was in her eye.She frantically wiped for her face, over and over. She knew she was making the motion but couldn’t feel a hand on her cheek.

It took a moment for her one good eye to process the limb laying on the floor by her feet.

Her heart pounded behind her ribs. Billie took a gulp of air.

She screamed.

At some point Ramon went down from a few more stun darts and one of the Enforcers came over to check her vitals. There were fingers on her pulse and someone asked if she could stand. When had she collapsed to the ground?

Lee moved into the center of the ring and stood over Ramon.

“Which of you idiots let him use his own staff?” she hissed at her men, mouth carefully angled away from the microphone.

She raised a pistol and aimed at Ramon’s head.

The crowd booed and threw bottles at the ring. Voices shouted “C’mon! It’s the Feast!” “No rules tonight, Lee!” “Let it slide! He won!”

Lee held the mic steady and looked at the throng of people, thirsty for blood. “The Abbey doesn’t tell me when it’s permissible to kill a man! And neither do any of you!” she snarled.

She fired her weapon and Ramon’s body went limp. Then it began to twitch. Faster and faster. The people in the front rows pulled away while those in the rafters leaned forward to get a better view. After a few seconds of violent twitching, Ramon’s body burst into a bloody mess!

People nearby screeched and frantically wiped the gore from their faces and clothes. Lee grinned and patted the bone charm on her hip.

At least the mystery of who’d killed the Harpooners so gruesomely had been solved.

“You think I give a fuck about the Fugue Feast?” Lee shouted. “In this place, my word is law! And my laws apply all year! Ramon broke my rules and he paid, same as any other fight.” Lee spun in a circle, gun pointed into the crowd. “And if anyone’s feeling brave because it’s a ‘special day’, feel free to take it up with me. Right here. Right now.”

Bold challenge. People did dumber things when they were drunk on the immunity of the Feast. But no one stepped forward.

Someone grabbed Billie under the arms and hauled her up. There weren’t any doctors here on a normal night, and certainly none tonight. Which meant they weren’t taking her away to get tended. Her good eye stung with tears as the guard deposited her gently in the alley between the building and the old rail line.

It’s where they dumped bodies.

“Sorry about this, Meagan.” Lee lit a cigarette as two of her men dragged a bloody bag of Ramon’s remains behind the nearby dumpster. “I’ve run a tight ship for a long time but obviously I’ve gotten sloppy. Extra charms, secret weapons, slow enforcers. Fucking amateurs tonight.”

She took a deep drag and the burning ash flared bright in the darkness. “Not you. I mean the idiots who let this happen. If it’s any consolation, heads are gonna roll. I really think you could’ve been a great asset and I’m pissed it ended this way.”

Billie watched Lee walk away and didn’t even have the energy to feel angry. It was hard to feel anything other than the muted pain and a sense of acceptance.

Of course it would end this way. She finally decided to do something good with her life, but she used old methods to do it: espionage and violence. And her plan backfired.

Although, technically this wasn’t her plan.

As if summoned by her thoughts of him, Billie heard a familiar rushing of air to her right. She couldn’t see Daud on that side but she knew the sharp gasp was his.

“Shit.”

Daud moved to her uninjured side and lifted her with thin arms. It had been months since she rescued him and he still hadn’t gotten back to a healthy weight, but he had enough strength to carry her.

“Daud what’re you…” she managed to whisper.

“Just returning the favor.”

* * *

Two dozen people were waiting in line when Daud arrived at the clinic. He shoved his way past the drunks and injured revelers.

“We need help!” he called out.

Without even looking away from the gash he was stitching on a woman’s hand, one the doctors pointed to a sign overhead: Clinic staff will triage patients according to need. Please wait your turn.

Daud growled. “How’s this for ‘need’?” and spun Billie’s right side towards the doctor.

The doctor glanced over the rim of his glasses and dropped the needle mid-stitch. “What happened?”

“The Feast happened,” Daud replied.

The doctor simply nodded. That was explanation enough. “Take her to the back.” He opened a curtain and Daud hurried through. “Doctor Hypatia! We have an emergency patient!”

The next few hours were a blur of movement and medical jargon. Daud stood out of the way and let the physicians tend to Billie.

The woman in charge and two other doctors all moved together like a well-practiced unit. Hypatia extended her hand and one of the others had the necessary tool ready to go, without her even having to say anything. One mixed a poultice while another disinfected the wounds. They moved around Billie’s body in the close space without tripping over one another. It reminded Daud of when the new Whalers finally learned each other well enough to anticipate everyone’s needs and their operations would flow like water.

Not that he reminisced much about those days, and certainly not about the work they did. But in moments of weakness— like now— Daud sometimes slipped into nostalgia-driven fantasies about what their little family had been like.

It was pure fantasy though. He couldn’t fool himself into thinking there had been anything healthy or happy about the group of misfits he sent to kill for a slim cut of the profit he made on each job. He wasn’t that senile yet.

But if he could have done it differently… if he had guided them towards a different purpose…

Daud scoffed and clenched his left hand. That was useless to wonder about. He hadn’t done any of those things when there was so much coin to be made from murder.

“Sir?”

Daud’s head shot up. “Yes?”

Hypatia smiled and waved him forward. “She’s stable now. I’ll give you some ointments to keep on her wounds, as well as some medications she’ll need to take orally. I can write down the— I’m sorry, I forgot to ask. Can you read?” There was no judgment in her tone.

Daud nodded.

“I’ll write down the dosages and how often to give them. Give me a few minutes to prepare everything.” She paused to squeeze his shoulder. “It’s going to be a tremendous adjustment for her when she wakes up. Does she have anyone who can stay with her for a while?”

“Yeah she, uh—” Daud’s swallowed around a lump in his throat. “I can.”

“I’m glad.” Hypatia sighed and pulled the blankets to cover Billie up to the chest, then rested both her arms on top of the covers, even the stump on the right that ended at the elbow. Hypatia must have seen the question in his eyes because she said, “I don’t want to hide it under a blanket for her to wonder about. Best she sees it. And something tells me Meagan wouldn’t like the implication that was something that needed to be hidden.”

Daud stiffened and his hand fell to the knife at his belt. “I never told you her name.”

Hypatia turned to him. Her gaze drifted to his knife, then back to his eyes. She blinked slowly. “She and I know each other. I thought that’s why you brought her here.”

Daud shook his head. Was this woman part of the gang? She called Billie by her alias.

Hypatia shrugged and turned her back on him, as if daring him to do something. “I’ll be back with her medicines in a few minutes. Make sure she stays still. She lost a lot of blood and she’ll be weak.”

The doctor left without another word, unconcerned about being struck from behind.

Daud huffed and his hand slid away from the knife. If nothing else, that woman was brave.

He slumped into the small chair at Billie’s bedside and looked around the sparse room. The clinic wasn’t fancy but it was clean and well-staffed. And unlike other physicians’ practices, it was affordable.

When these government-funded clinics first popped up all over Serkonos, Daud had been very skeptical. Doctors were expensive and there was no way their low-cost services paid the bills. The official story was that a new tax on the upper classes was used to cover the difference, but since the Duke still had his head attached to his shoulders, Daud didn’t believe it. He certainly didn’t buy the Duke’s story about being a “changed man” after just a few months of being imprisoned by his body double. The clinics were probably being used to smuggle contraband or launder money.

But whatever shady business was happening behind the scenes didn’t undo the help these places provided to the communities, especially since they all risked staying open during the Feast. If this place hadn’t been here…

Daud breathed around the wave of panic and leaned back. No use worrying about that. The clinic was here and Billie would live. Still, she was maimed for life and he only had himself to blame. This whole plan was his idea.

Billie went back to Albarca Baths the night after she rescued him and casually slid into her usual stool at the bar. No one thought she’d be ballsy enough to show her face if she’d been the one behind Daud’s rescue. And over the next several months, the Eyeless let her in on their secrets.

Some of it was typical gang stuff: extortion, protection fees, intimidation and blackmail. But where they differed from other gangs was their collective fascination with the occult. Everyone who was initiated into the gang had the same obsession with magic and the Void.

They carved bone charms— real ones— and taught others how to do the same. Gang members experimented with spells and tracked their methods systematically so they could figure out what did and didn’t work. Even the dimmest thugs had some talent for magic beyond the normal schoolyard tricks. And so, Billie agreed to take the next step. She asked to join.

Tonight had been her initiation.

“Guess you won’t be working your way up through the ranks to infiltrate the inner circle.” Daud whispered.He clasped Billie’s hand. It was cold and he took it between both of his.

“I should have been there. I should have been closer and ready to step in. But you told me to keep my distance and— fuck, why did I do that? Since when do I take orders from you, huh?” He rubbed a thumb over hers. “For that matter, since when do you take orders from me? Why’d you agree to this at all? Why’d you even look for me?”

Daud’s hands started to tremble. “What am I to you? A pity project? A cautionary tale? A father figure?” He scoffed at himself. “Void help you if it’s the last one. I’m the worst person in the Isles to look up to.”

“No argument, here.”

Daud startled. “You’re awake!”

Billie tried to sit up but he gently pushed her back down. “The doctor said to keep still. You lost a lot of blood.”

She reluctantly laid back down and looked at her right side. She took a sharp breath. “So it wasn’t a bad dream.”

“The doctor is getting your medicines ready. Once you’re strong enough to leave, we’ll take the ship and—”

“Oh, no we won’t,” Billie snarled. “Those bastards and their ‘initiation’ took my eye. My fucking arm!” She choked up for a moment but it passed. “They’re not getting away with that.”

She struggled to sit up again and smacked Daud’s hands away when he tried to push her back. “You’re right about these people. They’re vicious and disorganized at first glance, but it’s a front. They all know things about magic and these fights are _funding_ something. The amount they make on the gambling alone, not to mention that awful rat liquor…”

She gritted her teeth and pressed her palm against her forehead. Daud placed a nearby water glass in her hand and she took a few large gulps.

“Like I was saying, the money that comes from the fights, the booze, even that fancy salon… If it was staying in the gang, they’d all be living a lot larger than they are. Those funds are going somewhere else. But if money was their goal—”

“Then why’d they keep me prisoner rather than turning me in for that bounty?” Daud nodded. “Why run fights when half a million coin is sitting in your basement?”

“Because whatever they were hoping to learn from you was worth more to them than coin. And I need to stick around to figure out what that is.”

“No,” Daud snapped. “I can’t let you go back there.”

“Lee likes me,” Billie insisted. “If she thinks I was tough enough to drag myself to a clinic almost a mile away, she’ll let me stick around. I won’t be a brawler but maybe that’ll give me an excuse to do better work. Put me in a position to learn things, not just earn coin.”

“You can’t.” Daud leaned forward. “Billie, listen to me.”

“If I walk away now, then this,” she motioned to her arm and waved at the gash in her face where an eye used to be, “was all for nothing. You think I don’t want to run and hide? I do. But I _won’t_ because I made a promise to myself. I’m going to make this world less of a shithole before I die. And this is how I’ll do it.”

She began to sway and Daud put a hand on her shoulder to steady her, then slowly laid her back down.

Billie sighed. “I ran when I thought I might have to face what I’d done as a Whaler. I ran when I had a chance to confront Delilah again. I’m always running from my past. But this group isn’t some dark secret come back to haunt me and I’m not going to let them become one.”

She balled her fist in the thin blanket. “The Eyeless, and whoever the Ascended are, they’re more dangerous than Delilah, because they actually know how to lay low and keep secrets. But I’m going to expose them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have some [Hypatia head canons ](https://soontobecyborg.tumblr.com/post/181829294283/hypatia-begins-to-accept-alex) related to this chapter.
> 
> As usual, please let me know about any typos. And comments are much appreciated. <3


	5. Chapter 5

Malchiodi paced the length of his room, taking deep breaths to calm his nerves. His entire life’s work had led him to this moment, and he would not falter. He’d gone over the speech a thousand times in his head. It needed to be perfect, because today might not end well for him if he failed to be persuasive. But if there was a chance the others would listen, it was a risk he had to take. 

He paused and ran his fingers along the wall by his bed. The stone chamber was damp again. A flood in another part of the mine was starting to leak through. The room would be a foot deep in water if they didn’t redirect the flow. He’d ask Antero to locate the source if he survived the day.

The room he’d called home for so many years was a stark difference from his old life of wealth and comfort, but Malchiodi wouldn’t trade his new life for any of those superficial distractions. What he’d learned here was far more valuable.

Malchiodi turned to the symbols he’d painted on the wall. He spent years just trying to catch glimpses of this ancient alphabet through the Eye of the Dead God. He didn’t have the complete set of characters, but he had enough. Matching the symbols with old words he heard whispered in the Void— even if he didn’t understand their precise meaning— had been enough to discover that the written language was phonetic.

Each of the runes on his wall represented a complex sound, not a simple phoneme. The phoneme, the smallest individual sounds, were each represented by a brushstroke within the single rune. It was a beautiful, if complicated, language. Void help him if there was a tonal aspect to the pronunciation.

The single word he’d dedicated himself to studying was finally clear. In the beginning, he thought the word comprised of two syllables. But after much study, Malchiodi now believed it to be single complex syllable. 

A braver man might try to do this by himself, but he’d never make it past the Envisioned guarding the gateway. Malchiodi needed approval from the others. Something like this should be done as one, not by a lone rebel. If the Ascended were to have any chance of saving the world, they needed to be united.

Malchiodi swore to unite them all in purpose today.

He looked over his notes one more time and then placed them on his bedside table. A speech like this shouldn’t be read from a script. It needed to come from the heart. He locked the thick metal door behind him and made his way to the Great Library.

This place never failed to make him smile. Years of hard work had gone into creating this temple to forbidden knowledge. Bookcases carved into the thick silver stone stretched hundreds of feet overhead from the floor to the ceiling. The volumes on those shelves came from every corner of the Isles and contained information even the Academy of Natural Philosophy was too afraid to acknowledge. Cowards.

But his group was different than the rest, Malchiodi assured himself. He focused his will as he climbed the walkway to the meeting chamber.

They were chosen. They would listen. They had to.

The murmuring of voices grew louder as he approached and Malchiodi projected his confidence into the chamber as if it was a physical thing he could shove in their faces. It was a silly mental exercise he’d been practicing lately. He didn’t know if this worked or not, but it couldn’t hurt.

“We’ve been waiting for ten minutes,” Annette whined. “It’s rude to call a meeting and then be late.”

He smiled as he took the podium. “Apologies everyone, I had to double check my work.”

“And what work would that be?” asked Jesper. “What Void-shattering revelations has the linguist come upon?”

A few snickers echoed in the hall, but Malchiodi didn’t let it penetrate the shield of calm confidence he had wrapped around himself. Underestimating the importance of linguistic research was their failing.

“My fellow Ascended,” he began, “thank you all for coming. I’ve gathered us here today to determine the next steps our order must take in fulfilling its purpose.”

Yuri, a broad man from Tyvia who specialized in the study of complex astronomical systems, crossed his arms in the front row. “We are already fulfilling our purpose. What are you on about?”

“When this organization was founded ten years ago, we gathered here for one reason— to study the beyond. And so we have studied. And communed. Seen things no other human beings could ever imagine.”

Malchiodi waited for the group’s full attention before he spoke again. “I have a question for the ‘hard science’ members of the group: is the Void deteriorating? Yes or No.”

“You know it is!” Yuri leaned forward in his chair. “We all know this.”

“Exactly. The ‘incident’ ten years ago had many far-reaching effects. The shockwaves were even powerful enough to reanimate a few last twinges of life into the Eye of the Dead God. If not for that, it would still be dormant and tucked away within the mountain! The quarry would still be crawling with simpletons bashing away at rocks.”

Malchiodi noticed people rolling their eyes and flipping through pages of their own manuscripts as he rehashed the past. He cleared his throat and moved on to the next point.

“But what we refused to acknowledge is that the ‘incident’ also triggered the beginning the end.” He swept his gaze over the gathered members and they refocused their attention. “All that remains of the Outsider now is a spirit hanging on by its fingernails to an unsustainable existence as the Void decays around it. And yet, we all sit inside our mine, using the Eye to observe that world and this one, making our calculations, and writing dissertations that can only be shared among one another.”

He slammed fist on the podium. “What are we doing here? What are we accomplishing?”

“We’re discovering the truths of the universe hidden within the universal language: mathematics,” Annette snapped. She hated the “fuzzy science” of language and never passed on an opportunity to assert her field as the most relevant to the group’s pursuits. “What’s this meeting about, Malchiodi?”

“The Envisioned who created the Outsider— those ancient people the Eye showed each of us when we first communed with it— what was their goal?”

Silence descended over the group like a shroud.

After a few moments, Annette spoke up. “They lived in a different time. Their world was on the precipice of chaos.”

“As is ours!” Malchiodi shouted.

Yuri stood and raised his voice in reply. “Centuries, Malchiodi. Based on what we know, we have centuries before the instability of the Void threatens the fabric of our reality. What you’re suggesting would be jumping the gun in a big way.”

Malchiodi smirked at the opening he’d been given. “‘Based on what we know.’ That phrase is key. Because the more we discover, the more we realize how little we know. We assume we have centuries before our reality destabilizes, but if we’ve miscalculated…” He let the implication linger. “Sometimes, the boldest measures are the safest.”

Antero, an architect, was the next to speak. “So you’re proposing we find a new god for the Void?”

“I am. The Void will need a new avatar to stabilize it. But first…” Malchiodi steeled his resolve. This was the part they were going to hate. “We must cleanse the Void of a certain lingering spirit.”

As if on cue, gasps of outrage filled the chamber.

Malchiodi refused to allow his voice to be drowned out. “Remnants and artifacts from prior gods are perfectly fine, as with the Eye! But this spirit still has agency and will of its own. A new god won’t be able to take root properly while it’s still there. We have to purge the remaining piece of the Outsider from the Void.”

People shouted and rose to their feet. Someone threw a pen at Malchiodi’s head.

“That would require breaking our utmost rule!” Yuri shouted.

“Their utmost rule!” he refuted. “When the Eye of the Dead God showed us the past— showed us how the Envisioned saved the world— we modeled ourselves after them! We explored the beyond. We questioned our assumptions about the laws of the universe. We rose above the mundane! As they did.”

The group nodded in agreement.

“And, as Annette kindly pointed out, they lived in a different time. Their utmost rule— that no one was permitted to enter the ritual island where the Outsider was created— only applied so long as there was a god in residence. A god they put there.”

He paused to gauge the mood. A few thoughtful murmurs trickled through the crowd. He had them thinking now. Good.

Malchiodi gave his fellow Ascended a moment to consider, then continued. “There hasn’t been a god in the Void in over ten years. The utmost rule doesn't apply because what we are seeing in the Void isn’t really a god.”

A few members were nodding now. Malchiodi pushed further.

“We may have centuries before this organization is forced to act upon its destiny, but is waiting until the last moment the right choice?”

More thoughtful murmurs.

“And what if the men and women who inhabit this compound centuries from now are unwilling or unable to find a replacement to fill the Void? Who knows how long it could take to find a suitable sacrifice?”

Some of them were definitely coming over to seeing his way of things now. But not everyone.

Jesper spoke up. “Do we even know how to destroy the spirit of the Outsider?” He rose from his seat. “The artifact we retrieved was used to create a god. Are we certain it can be used to kill one?”

Several people mumbled their agreement.

“I know some of you have an attachment to the Outsider that is more… sentimental than is strictly allowed within our ranks.” Malchiodi held his hands up. “No judgements. However, didn’t we abandon our previous lives and swear off all but the pursuit of the beyond?” Several members nodded. “And isn’t it suspicious timing that we found the knife when we did? The spirit of the Outsider is the one who cast it from the Void and into our world! Perhaps it wants to die!” Malchiodi suggested.

“He was keeping it away from Delilah,” Antero said.

Malchiodi simply shrugged. “Perhaps. But the fact is, the knife is in our possession now. The Void is godless and deteriorating. And it’s no coincidence that—” Now was the time to reveal it. “It’s no coincidence that my research has revealed how Delilah was able to destroy the Outsider to begin with.”

Everyone sat up straight in their chairs, some curious while others seethed. Malchiodi gripped the projector button in his hand and clicked to the first slide: The Mark of the Outsider.

“We are all familiar with this, yes?”

“Of course!” Jesper snapped. “But no one knows what it means!”

“Are you telling us you’ve translated the ancient language?” Antero asked, breathless and wide-eyed.

Malchiodi shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. I haven’t been able to translate the meaning of the symbols, but I have developed an understanding of the pronunciation.”

The crowd was quiet.

“What good does that do?” Yuri threw his hands up.

“More than you know!” Malchiodi shouted back. “This is clearly a word of great power.” He waved to the Mark. “I have seen, through the gifts of the Eye, how the Outsider came to be unmade that fateful day. The witch Delilah used a spell in an attempt to possess him. Its dramatic failure sent a shockwave through the Void and sparked the long dormant powers of the Eye, lodged in this mountain for so many millennia. I have witnessed a key part of Delilah’s spell in which she spoke a word of great power.”

He pointed to the symbol. “This word.”

He waited for protests but none came. Even those vibrating with outrage wanted to know. They all wanted to know.

“I may not understand what it means, but I can pronounce it. And that word of power combined with the artifact we now possess…” He let the silence wash over his fellows. “It’s as if some larger consciousness is prodding us towards this decision. How can you deny the will of the Void itself?”

Malchiodi had no doubt that many of them would deny it. But he only needed a majority to come to his side.

“I don’t ask this of you lightly. If we act, we have to be in agreement on the matter.”

Malchiodi strode to the side table and reached for the colored marbles kept in a lacquered case. There were 36 white and 36 black. Two possible votes for each member of the the group.

“Let’s take a vote.”

No one argued.

Each person took their time. The whispered debates lasted for nearly an hour. But finally, the last person dropped their marble into the opaque box at the head of the chamber.

One by one, the marbles were withdrawn and counted. 14 White. 22 Black.

Malchiodi watched as Yuri clenched his jaw. For a moment he was afraid the man would try to argue the result. Instead, he sighed and turned away.

“It’s decided then.” Malchiodi turned to Antero. “Send a runner to Michaels’ Bank. We need to access our vault.”

* * *

**1 Earth, 1853**

Corvo released a sigh when he heard Yul Khulan’s voice sing the Hymn of Atonement over the Abbey intercoms. His deep bass washed over Dunwall like a calming rain. It was a New Year.

Corvo stood at attention in front of the safe room door, heart in his throat. Emily said they’d talk when the Feast was over, but a day and several hours had passed since then. She may have changed her mind.

After a few minutes, the door slid open and Emily emerged with Alexi at her heels. Emily stopped just short of him and he noticed her eyes were puffy from crying. Corvo reached out slowly and rubbed a thumb over her cheek.

Emily took a step back. “You look tired, father. Maybe you should rest before we—”

“Don’t even think about it,” Alexi said, and shoved Emily towards Corvo. “He can stay awake another hour, but you’re talking this out.”

Emily narrowed her eyes, but there was fondness in her thin smile. “That’s insubordinate, Captain Mayhew.”

Alexi grinned. “Court martial me, then. But only after you two have talked.” She saluted Corvo and saw herself to the door.

Then Corvo and Emily were alone.

The clock ticked on the wall as they each waited for one another to say the first word.

It was Emily who spoke. “Were there any disturbances during the festivities?”

Corvo straightened his posture and his stomach sank. Business then.

“I’m still waiting on reports from the City Watch about what happened in the rest of Dunwall. But here in the Tower it was uneventful except for a janitor who ran off with some silverware. It wasn’t worth much more than his bonus would have been, so I’m not sure why he’d do something so foolish. We won’t be giving him a reference now.”

“And without a positive reference from his last employer, he won’t find another job.” Emily shook her head. “He must have been desperate. Poor man.”

A few years ago Emily would have been morally outraged at someone stealing from the Tower, especially when they had a bonus incentivizing them not to. But now she had a better understanding of what life was like for most people.

After her undercover job at Santiago Fishery, Emily dedicated herself to learning as much as possible about economics and social sciences, but there was only so much she could learn from books and advisors. So, each year for the last three years Emily took a one month “sabbatical” from her duties as empress, during which time she changed her appearance and got a job. Most recently, she spent in a month in Driscol working at a large factory that made machine parts. The experience inspired her to close a few loopholes in Gristol’s new labor laws.

Corvo looked forward to seeing some of the nobles’ faces when she put a stop to their underhanded practices. He didn’t look forward to the political backstabbing that would follow.

They stood in awkward silence for a while longer. Occasionally, Emily looked towards him and opened her mouth, but she didn’t speak.

Finally, Corvo broke the stalemate. “I’m sorry for—”

“Do you know why I’ve been so angry I could barely even speak to you all this time?” Emily interrupted.

Corvo nodded. “I let Daud live.”

“No.”

Corvo supposed that was an oversimplification. “I lied about him being alive.”

Emily wrapped her arms around her chest. “You let me think he was dead… why exactly? You didn’t want to have an awkward conversation?”

“I couldn’t face the truth of it myself— that I froze. I refused to think about it, and when I did, I imagined I’d…” He lowered his head. “For years, I told myself I made a choice that day. I chose mercy. I was the better man. But the truth is, when I looked Daud in the eye as he begged for his life, I didn’t care. I had every intention of—” His voice broke. “But then I lowered my sword…”

Emily released a shaky breath. “And waited years to tell me.” She raised her chin. “But that wasn’t the reason I’ve barely spoken to you.” Emily closed her eyes as she seemed to gather her thoughts.

Corvo stayed quiet and let her.

“What hurt the most was when you confessed to me, and what it tells me about the kind of person you think I am.” Her face pinched. “You waited until the Fugue Feast because you thought I’d hurt you! You thought I was capable of doing something I’d need immunity for?”

Corvo hung his head. “Keeping that secret from you was a massive betrayal. And betrayal can make people do regrettable things.” He ran a thumb over the wrapping on his left hand. “I swore you’d never end up in a courtroom again because of me. No matter what.”

Emily ran a hand over her face. “Once again, you were trying to protect me.” She paced to the window and back. “I know that’s your job, as my Spymaster, my Protector… and my father. As angry as I am, I do still trust you. I never stopped. But you have to trust me too! And telling me about Daud when you did said a lot about how little you trust me. That gutted me more than your secrets ever have.”

Corvo nodded. “You’re right. Even Ceòl said I was being ridiculous, and he expects the worst from everyone as a matter of course.”

Emily chuckled. “See?” After a moment she added, “How are things with you two? I’ve been—” She chuckled. “I’ve been dying ask for years, especially when Alexi started nudging unsuspecting women in your path last summer, hoping you’d take an interest in someone. I finally had to tell her you were sleeping with the Outsider.” Emily shrugged. “She thought I was joking, of course.”

Corvo smiled softly. “Things are good. We see each other when I sleep.”

“He shows up in your dreams.” Emily hummed. “That’s romantic.”

Corvo sighed. “It can be.” He looked towards the doors where Alexi was probably standing guard. “Things seem to be going well with Alexi. Assuming you don’t court martial her, that is.” He winked.

The color rose on Emily’s cheeks. “I think I’ll let the insubordination slide.” She thinned her lips to try and suppress the grin spreading across her face. “Things with Alexi are… amazing. She keeps my feet on the ground when I feel like I’m about to spin away. Does that make sense?”

“Perfect sense.” Corvo stifled a yawn. “Sorry.”

“No! Don’t be. You’ve been awake for a day and half. You need to rest.”

Emily moved to open the door but Corvo reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright. I want you to say everything you need to say. I—” _I’m afraid when I wake up you’ll be distant again._

“I’m finished with the cold shoulder. It was childish and cruel.” Emily leaned in and wrapped her arms around his back. “We’ll talk more when you wake up. I promise.”

Emily sniffled and then ran a hand over the creases in her jacket. “This doesn’t change the bounty, though. I’m still going to find Daud.”

Corvo squeezed her hand. “If that’s what you need, then give me the word. I’ll scour the Isles for him.”

Emily shook her head. “I don’t want you anywhere near him after what he did to the Harpooners and that poor boy’s family.” She shuddered. “I know he did it to escape, and part of me feels responsible for that. But in the end, Daud made the choice to kill rather than face justice. And I don’t want you in danger.”

Corvo nodded and reached for the door. But before he left for his quarters he said, “At least consider reducing the bounty. After what happened with the Bloated Jellies…”

“I’ll think about it. Get some rest, father.”

* * *

Corvo swayed on his feet as he shoved open the door to his room. Staying awake for the entire length of the Fugue Feast got harder every year. But now he was free to get some much needed rest before the assembly Emily had scheduled in the late afternoon.

He didn’t even bother fully undressing. Corvo simply kicked off his shoes and stripped down to his shirt and underpants, then crawled into bed. When he woke, he’d have reports from the City Watch to review. But until then, he looked forward to the company in his dreams.

Sometimes the transition from reality to lucid dreaming was obvious. Corvo might open his eyes and find himself in his childhood home or on a ship bound for Pandyssia. Other nights, like tonight, the scenery remained exactly the same, save for one detail.

Corvo rolled onto his side in the bed and pulled a familiar figure close to him. He buried his nose in the back of Ceòl’s neck.

“You were right,” he whispered. “She was angry about the timing as much as the confession itself.”

Ceòl turned on his side to face Corvo. “I’m glad the two of you finally talked.”

Corvo’s eyes fluttered shut as Ceòl ran fingertips along his brow, trailing down his nose and along his cheekbones. Ceòl loved to do that, as if he were memorizing Corvo’s features.

They spent some time just laying together, sharing soft touches. Normally things would become more heated after a while, but not tonight. For now, Corvo just wanted to relax and listen to his lover’s voice as he droned on about the history of the Fugue Feast.

“I’m sure you know your modern calendar was invented after the chaos of the Great Burning.”

“Of course.”Most of what Corvo knew about the Great Burning came for the Abbey, so the details of that awful period were highly suspect. But supposedly a great cult had roamed all the known lands, setting fire to everything as they went. Their goal: total destruction of civilization.

They didn’t succeed, obviously. And the details of what happened to stop them were lost to time. But the Abbey loved to use those dark days as a warning about the chaos that would overwhelm the Isles if they abandoned the Seven Strictures.

“After the flames died down, the people of the Isles felt an unprecedented longing for order in every aspect of their lives,” Ceòl said. “And the man ultimately responsible for the creation of your modern calendar felt this desire more than most.”

Ceòl’s eyes shifted black as he watched the past. “He’d long struggled with the compulsion to create a feeling order through numbers. He collected items in series of four, seven or thirteen. He counted his paces, only entering a doorway if his steps hit the correct number. He even refused to carry money unless the sum in his purse was divisible by one of those numbers, going so far as to overpay for items so his person wouldn’t be ‘tainted’ by a disorderly sum.”

“His predisposition for compulsive counting, combined with the burning of his family and most of his city, led him to a singular obsession: the new calendar. He divided your world’s path through the cosmos into thirteen months, each consisting of four seven-day weeks, identical in length and repeating over and over. It gave structure to the very passage of time itself.”

Ceòl’s eyes faded back to green and he grinned. “You take that concept for granted, but every culture has their own relationship with time and this new calendar gave these people a sense of control they desperately needed.”

Corvo could sympathize. Once he’d retaken his place in the Tower after Barrows’ coup, he’d established all new security measures and protocols. They were necessary and practical, but also gave him a sense on control over a life that had gone so wildly off the rails only months ago. After Delilah’s attempt at overthrowing Emily, he’d gone even further.

“But the reality of the cosmos was not reflected in this new calendar. No matter how many times he checked his work, the calendar-maker still had to account for 1 day, 5 hours, 48 minutes and 49.5 seconds. Give or take a few moments. This excess time infuriated him, so he decreed that this period would go totally unrecorded, as if he could sweep time itself under the rug.”

Ceòl looked at his hands thoughtfully. “The uneven calendar reminded him that he was at the mercy of a larger cosmos.” He paused and said, softer, “The same way he’d been at the mercy of madmen with torches.”

He was quiet for a few moments before he spoke again. “I wish he could have seen the larger system at work. Worlds circling stars, circling galaxies. It’s only chaos up close. The further back you stand, the more order you can see.”

Corvo tried to imagine it and failed. He knew enough about the stars to draw a fuzzy picture in his head but the basics he’d learned over the years were probably a pale shadow of that much grander reality. But the irony wasn’t lost on him.

“One man’s desire for mathematical order created a holiday when chaos reigns,” Corvo said.

Ceòl sighed. “Unintended consequences.”

“Still, most people restrain themselves better than I’d expect.” Corvo thought about the Tower staff and the people of the empire, suddenly free from all law. It could easily descend into something like the Great Burning, but never did. Crime rose sharply for the day, and there were always unprosecutable murders in its wake, but most people didn’t do any serious harm.

“The same principles that prevent your guards from turning on Emily apply to everyone,” Ceòl said. “Free from the law doesn’t mean free from all consequences.”

“The threat of revenge follows them, even if justice doesn’t.”

He wondered if that was what motivated Daud to lay low all these years. Was it fear of his vengeance or had he really changed? Corvo pushed the thoughts aside. It didn’t matter now.

Suddenly, Ceòl stiffened in his arms. Corvo watched his lover’s eyes tick back and forth, as if he were scanning a document.

“Well, aren’t they bold?” Ceòl snarled.

“Excuse me?” Corvo sat up.

“Not you, Corvo.” Ceòl sat up as well but his gaze remained unfocused and then bled black. “I expected them to argue in circles for the better part of a century before they reached a decision, much less acted on it. And this happened days ago?” He slouched and ran a hand over the back of his head. “I always think I have more time, and I never do. I suppose this was inevitable.”

Corvo’s stomach dropped. Ceòl and the word “inevitable” were never a good combination. “What’s wrong?”

Ceòl’s eyes faded back to green and he reached for Corvo’s hand. “This courtship we’ve had the last few years, is it something you’d like to continue for the foreseeable future?”

There was something more behind this question, but he answered honestly. “Yes, this is something I’d like to continue.” He lifted Ceòl’s chin and held his gaze. “For the foreseeable future, and beyond.”

Ceòl took a quick breath and nodded. “I’m glad.” He took Corvo’s head between his hands. “Corvo, I—”

He hesitated and Corvo held his breath. Ceòl surged forward and devoured Corvo’s mouth in an unusually passionate kiss. Corvo was shocked momentarily, but then hungrily reciprocated. When they broke apart, Ceòl smiled.

“With any luck, I’ll see you soon.” He squeezed Corvo’s hand and disappeared.

Corvo was left in the dream bedroom, alone.

“With any luck?” he wondered aloud. What did that mean?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to point out any typos. I am the worst proofreader.
> 
> The slow start is almost over. I know things are taking a while to pick up, but a lot of action is coming later. I promise.


	6. Chapter 6

Ceòl paced slowly around the ritual island where he was murdered four thousand years ago. The high priest was empty-handed, as he had been for the last few years. But now the knife was returning home.

Daud had tried his best. If it hadn’t been for the Harpooners, he would have escaped the northernmost island, gone to a shrine, and been instructed about how to hide the knife. Once hiden, it would have remained out of the cult’s grasp until some time after Corvo passed from the world.

Instead, the inevitable was happening right now.

All possible futures flashed before Ceòl’s dark eyes, too fast for him to comprehend the way he used to. But he saw enough to know how this would end eventually.

One way or another, this cult would kill him. If they failed today, they would return at a later date armed with more knowledge of the Void and its workings. The more knowledge they accumulated, the more danger they posed to Corvo’s world.

Ceòl’s eyes faded back to green. He was always going to die, it was just a matter of when and how. Still, that things were coming to their conclusion so soon was a shock. In all the possibilities he’d glimpsed from Void, this day had been a century in the making if not longer. He’d expected to outlive Corvo by decades. And now…

“My life has taken a turn, has it not?” he mused aloud.

The humming energy of the knife drew closer. Ceòl prepared himself. His eyes shifted to black as he watched their approach.

One by one, each member of the Ascended communed with the Eye of the Dead God. Their perception shifted and, for a while, they could see through the seams in the world.

The one called Malchiodi gripped the knife at his side and did his best to hide the trembling in his hands. He led the group towards a tear in reality at Shindaerey Peak. But they weren’t the only ones present.

Tall, angular creatures made of stone stomped around the tear. The cult had taken to calling them “the Envisioned” in a macabre dedication to last cult who’d created a god within the Void. They were the remnants of those people. Normally, the Envisioned that guarded this place would have killed anyone who dared to approach, but they moved aside now. The Ascended were united.

Ceòl wondered if the stone guardians had much of their original consciousness left. If so, maybe they remembered what it was like to be united by purpose as they too forged a path into the Void with the knife in their possession.

The winding staircase was littered with the bodies of those who’d tried to breach the tear in the last decade. Some of them were rogue cultists. Others were miners who’d worked at the Quarry and stumbled upon the secret there after the Eye woke up. Until now, none who attempted this approach were successful.

The cult passed through the tear and into the Void, finding themselves on a stone slab with a panoramic view of hollow darkness.

“It’s so still,” Yuri whispered. “I didn’t expect it to feel…”

“Dead.” Malchiodi nodded. “I know. This is why we need to act sooner rather than later.”

A few of the cultists looked frantically back towards the way they came. Others stared wide-eyed at the Void, as if they could decipher its meaning with human eyes. And a few of them… began to change.

The bodies of those members who had been exposed to the forces of the mountain the longest became mottled by thick stone. In this place, the deformity spread faster. Jesper, an older member, began to falter as he walked. His feet elongated and fingers grew into points. Rather than scream in horror at his transformation, Jesper simply kept walking, as if unaware.

Ceòl felt the ripples through the Void as Jesper’s consciousness dispersed into the endless surroundings. His thoughts and emotions— finite, tangible things— grew too thin to be recognizable. The stone crept over his face and ripped through his clothes while the other cultists looked on in equal parts horror and envy.

Jesper gazed towards the center of the swirling light in the distance. He transversed to another island and began walking his own path, directed by instinct and the currents of the Void.

“He has achieved the final form,” Malchiodi said wistfully. “Become one with the Void.”

“May we all be so lucky,” Annette replied.

The cultists continued on their mission.

Ceòl watched as the necessary paths opened up for them. The dark stones cracked and rearranged themselves, twisting towards the ritual island. The knife knew where to go and obediently led them to their goal.

So much for hoping they’d get lost here.

The cultists had surely glimpsed it in their visions while communing with the Eye, but based on their reactions, the real ritual site was far more awe-inspiring. Several of them stopped to admire the long-dead cultists who killed a teenage boy “for the greater good.” Others headed for the altar and ran their hands along the surface.

The altar wasn’t empty of course. Delilah was still entombed there, trapped in stone stasis. One of the Ascended spit at her.

Malchiodi moved to the high priest and looked at the empty hands.

“We will fulfill our destiny,” he said. “We’ll pull the world back from the brink. You did your duty and we do ours now, to clear the way for something new.”

Ceòl stayed hidden between the seen and unseen as Malchiodi unsheathed the knife. He swallowed and turned it in his hand, unsure what to do next. Finally, he held it raised over his head, like a wand, and spoke.

“Spirit!” Malchiodi called. “I summon you!”

From outside their vision, Ceòl rolled his eyes.

“Show yourself and this will all be over quickly.”

Ceòl did not show himself.

“I know you must be frightened,” Malchiodi crooned, as if to a child. “Perhaps you don’t even remember what happened to you. Are you wandering and confused?” He looked to the altar and then back into the Void. “Ten years ago a great explosion killed the god who inhabited this realm! It killed… you. But instead of dispersing into the Void, it seems a piece of you remained, lingering and lost. We’re here to help you find peace.”

Ceòl huffed. They thought he was some half-aware apparition? He wasn’t what he used to be, but being spoken to this way was insulting.

Still, it never hurt to let assumptions stand when they could be used to your advantage. If they thought he was a fragmented sprit, they obviously hadn’t seen much of his recent life through the Eye. From the sound of it, they didn’t know about his time in Dunwall or about his visits with Corvo.

Ceòl could use that.

He materialized at the edge of the ritual island. Some of the cultists stumbled back. Others took hesitant steps towards him.

Malchiodi stayed still. “There you are.” His knuckles were white against the hilt of the knife. “Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Ceòl cocked his head. “Then why are you holding a knife?”

The group gasped at the sound of his voice, but Malchiodi remained stoic. “I’m going to use this to help you.”

“Oh?” Ceòl batted his black eyes. “Do I need help?”

Malchiodi inched forward. “I believe you do. You’re trapped here. Unable to find peace. Stuck for all eternity.”

“I know.” He waved his hand to the damaged statues lined up in rows near the altar. “They trapped me here.”

Malchiodi gulped. “So you remember.”

“Some.” Ceòl hung his head and feigned confusion. “Parts of it are… blurry.”

“As I suspected.” Malchiodi turned to the cultists and whispered— as if Ceòl couldn’t hear. “It’s a mere fragment of its former self, like the traumatized spirits we’ve glimpsed lingering at the fringes of the Void. This truly is the merciful decision.”

“But how…” Antero gulped. “It doesn't have a physical form. It can't be stabbed.”

“The knife is more than it appears.” Malchiodi stroked his thumb over the hilt. “The Eye showed me. The knife wields the Void itself.”

“Will that be enough?” Annette asked.

“I’m not sure. But combined with that word of power… it has to be.” Malchiodi turned to Ceòl. “Would you like to be free of this place?”

Ceòl blinked. Free? He’d never been free before, had he? Not in his human life, and not in his godly one. Even in his short time in Dunwall, he’d been shackled to this place, knowing he had to return to prevent the very thing that was happening now.

Malchiodi repeated himself. “Spirit. Do you want to be free?”

Ceòl smiled at Malchiodi. “I think I would.”

Malchiodi’s hand shook as he raised the knife.

Ceòl took a step forward. He swept his gaze across the gathered cultists, locking eyes with each one of them for a few seconds each. Some of them shivered under his gaze, while others held his stare in bold challenge. But all of them met his eyes.

There would be no whimpering or pitiful pleas for mercy this time. Ceòl knew better now. He’d meet his end with his head held high.

As far as the Ascended would know, anyway.

The timing needed to be precise if he was going to fool them. He had to disperse at just the right moment. Ceòl felt icy currents of fear cut through the stream of his consciousness. The last time he did this, it was an accident. If he failed to replicate the process…

Ceòl watched as Malchiodi took a deep breath and held the knife towards him. The Void flowed through the ancient metalwork and triggered the magical chain reaction within its frame. The knife began to vibrate.

Malchiodi looked him in the eyes. “Rest now.” He swallowed and thrust the knife outwards, a surge of energy building at the tip of the blade. “Keyol!”

Ceòl acted a split-second before the blast of energy hit him. He severed his thin tie to the Void and allowed his fragile form… to disperse.

Better suicide than murder victim.

Ceòl felt himself stretch thin, his thoughts and feelings echoes of what they were. There wasn’t much of him compared to the last time he did this. He’d let enough of himself disperse to fool the cultists, but not too much.

He saw flashes of the past and the future. Lips crashing. Feet running through filthy alleys. Tears and laughter. Medicine bottles. Fireside romance. A shovel breaking ground as someone dug a grave.

Ceòl gasped. The person digging was… him! His face was etched with grief as the shovel tore into the dark earth over and over. The vision of his mortal self, streaked with dirt and standing knee-deep in a hole, bore no grey hairs or wrinkles. His clothes were current Dunwall fashion. This was soon.

Who was the grave for?

The scene dissolved before he could see more. And there was no time to linger here.

As he found a crack in the world to slip through, Ceòl gave the Void one last glance. He’d be back again one day. One final time. He wondered if some new god would be here to greet him, and coldly taunt him about his life’s great tragedies when his existence finally ended.

But until that day…

Ceòl reached out to a shrine.

* * *

Cecelia rounded the west gate and slid into the shadows. The suspicious merchant was back. He’d positioned his cart in the same spot every day for a week before the Fugue Feast, despite the poor foot traffic in the area. And now, he was here again. 

A little research revealed that there were two market stalls available for similar rent in a much more trafficked area two blocks over. This man was either an idiot who didn’t know his trade, or he wanted to be in this stall at this time of day for a reason. And the only thing of note in this area: the Tower’s west gate.

She stayed still and unnoticeable as he made little effort to attract customers to his wares throughout the morning. From the looks of things, he was selling low quality fabric. Most people passed him by as he made an attempt to look relaxed. Every once in a while he’d take a small notebook from his jacket pocket, glance at his wristwatch, and jot something down.

Cecelia looked around each time he made a note. And each time, the only thing happening on the street was the passing of a City Watch officer.

He was timing their rounds.

“Cecelia!” a small voice shouted somewhere at the end of the street. “Cecelia, come out! I have to tell you something!”

She startled and nearly lost her focus. Cecelia peeked out from her shadowy alcove and saw a child, no older than eight, cupping her hands to her mouth. She was barefoot in the summer heat, but based on her ratty clothing, Cecelia suspected she didn’t own a proper pair of shoes anyway.

A homeless child calling her name could mean only one thing. She reached into her pockets to see how much coin she was going be out today.

But Cecelia glanced to the man casing the Tower. She needed to follow him when he packed up for lunch. And after that, she was scheduled to eavesdrop on a bunch of nobles during Emily’s big proposal. There wasn’t time to run off to the Void right now. Maybe she could visit a shrine _after_ she found out what this man was up to.

“Cecelia!” the girl shouted again. “He says the suspicious man isn’t a threat to the Tower! He’s a jealous lover planning to murder somebody named Officer Randall! Call it a day! He needs to talk right _now!”_

The merchant gasped and stared at the child wandering the far end of the street. The blood drained from his face and he shot off in the opposite direction, leaving his stall unattended.

So much for that mystery. She’d need to inform Corvo about the threat to Officer Randall.

But since when did Ceòl deliver messages so plainly? What happened to being useless and cryptic?

The girl continued shouting for her and Cecelia waited until the child was within arm’s reach before she dropped her focus and became visible.

“Ceceeeeeelia!”

“Hi.” Cecelia stepped forward and the girl nearly fell over. “Did you need something?”

“Whoa. Where’d you… never mind. He said I needed to give you a message and you’d give me seventeen coin.”

Cecelia dropped the contents of her pockets into the outstretched hands.

The girl counted each coin carefully, even examining the edges and biting the metal to check their authenticity. Once she was satisfied, she spoke.

“Corner of Gull and Orchard. There’s a brick house with blue shingles. The top apartment has a small attic over it. It’s where I’ve been staying. He’s there and he says ‘bring pants’.”

Cecelia’s mouth fell open. “He said to bring…”

The girl nodded matter-of-factly. “He’s naked.”


	7. Chapter 7

Corvo tightened his jaw as a yawn threatened to break through his schooled expression of vigilance. Six hours of sleep wasn’t enough to recover from two days of wakeful alertness. But it couldn’t be helped. He folded his arms behind his back and pinched the tender skin of his wrist, stinging himself awake. He couldn’t afford to look old and tired in a room packed with soon-to-be outraged nobility. 

The gathered aristocrats were already annoyed by the timing of this meeting. Because Emily “invited” everyone to assemble in her throne room at 3pm on 1 Earth, they had been forced to stay in Dunwall during the Fugue Feast rather than flee to the relative privacy of their country estates. Corvo had no clue what most of them normally did during the Feast— he didn’t want to know— but based on the sour expressions all around, the timing of Emily’s “invitation” ruined their planned festivities.

And now the throne room was stuffed with dozens of wealthy business owners. Each of them operated the largest industries in Gristol: whaling operations, farming complexes, hotel chains, shipping companies and manufacturers. Combined, the people in this room employed nearly one third of Gristol’s working citizens.

Corvo stood at attention to Emily’s left while Alexi took her place to the right of the throne. He scanned the room as the last of the most wealthy and influential people on the island shuffled inside. None of them had been told the reason for this meeting. Most wrung their hands and cast nervous glances to one another. Corvo smirked when he saw that several of the nobles had brought their barristers, including Lord Estermont.

Good. He was going to need one.

Emily stood and raised her hands for silence. “Ladies and gentlemen! Thank you all for coming today. I know you’re very busy people, so I’ll make this as brief as possible.” She waited until all eyes were on her before she continued. “I understand that the wage law I enacted last year was unpopular among most of you.”

Corvo gritted his teeth. That was an understatement in the extreme. But the nobles were as upset about the way she’d played them in Parliament as they were about their increased payrolls.

Emily hadn’t opened last year’s political season with talk of wages. She _started_ with a proposal for sweeping safety reforms. Emily had nearly been cursed off the floor of Parliament for uttering the word “regulations.”

She’d presented an elaborate industry-by-industry proposal for custom safety equipment, supervisory oversight, sanitation guidelines, and a limit on shift work of more than twelve consecutive hours in jobs involving heavy machinery. The per-business estimated cost for domestic industries like housekeeping and food service were in the thousands. For manufacturing industries, estimated costs ran into the millions. Her proposal had half the members of Parliament on their feet and spitting.

Which was exactly the point.

By the time Emily presented her _next_ order of a business— an island-wide minimum wage roughly 12% above the average wage offered to “low skill” positions— it seemed the lesser of two evils to the voting members whose fortunes were heavily invested in manufacturing and construction. Members invested in domestic fields and food service were more inclined to vote for safety regulations rather than wage increases.

And based on their investment portfolios, Emily knew exactly who would back which measure.

As planned, Emily’s wage law carried by a single vote and as of last year, Gristol had a set minimum wage!

In theory. The reality was sure to be much harsher, Corvo knew. There had already been reports of employers finding creative loopholes which allowed them to dock pay. But enforcing wage law was where the new Department of Labor came into the picture.

“I fully expected one of you to try and kill me when the wage measure passed,” Emily said as casually as if she was commenting on Lady Brisby’s new summer hat. “It was a pleasant surprise when no assassins came. Your restraint was appreciated.” Her grin was all teeth.

“What else was a surprise was how many of you complied! The Department of Labor is still in its infancy and won’t have the resources to accomplish all of its goals for years to come. I know that. Still, I was so pleased when _most_ of you passed their end-of-year audits.”

Corvo’s eyes tracked Emily as she paced back and forth in front of half the nation’s wealth.

“I know this wage increase was a huge investment for all of you, and it’s your workers who will feel the benefits most immediately. But I assure you, a more comfortable lower class will make your lives easier and your profits greater.”

The sour faces of the gathered people told Corvo they were not assured.

Emily continued. “Think about it. Throngs of desperate poor mean you have to hire round-the-clock security to protect your homes, businesses and selves. Obviously _those_ security guards have to be paid well enough not to turn on you. And the same applies to the people of the Isles. You need protection from them _because_ they are not being paid well by you.”

The business owners remained silent.

“But with our new minimum wage, a person can support themselves and one healthy dependent by working a standard sixty hour week.”

Barely. The new wage was an improvement, but it was only enough to keep a mother and child in a basic apartment at pre-inflation housing market prices. It wasn’t enough to pull someone out of poverty, but it would lift them out of extreme poverty.

And Corvo knew Emily wasn’t going to stop there. This was just the beginning.

“As people are able to save more money, and spend more money, you’ll have less need for security,” Emily explained. “Imagine being able to walk outside your home without three armed guards following you.”

She looked pointedly at Lady Brisby and the contingent of guards who followed her everywhere ever since her carriage was ambushed last year.

Brisby crossed her arms and turned away, petulant.

Corvo noticed a few nobles in the crowd who thumbed their chins in thought. Emily was right. Most petty crime in the city was the result of desperation, not malice. After the wage law went into effect, the City Watch reported a 19% reduction in petty crime within six months!

However, the larger social goods would take longer to show themselves and Corvo thought Emily needed to wait until those benefits were more obvious before she pushed the next phase of her reforms. But, as usual, Emily hadn’t listened to him.

The clerks stationed at the corners of the room began handling out the proposals and Corvo took a deep breath as everyone read through the materials.

“This again?” “She can’t be serious.” “How many times do we have to explain to her—”

Various grumbles of discontent washed over the group.

“As you can see, I’ve taken your concerns under advisement and made a few changes to the safety regulations I proposed just over a year ago.” Emily clutched her hands behind her back. “These new workplace safety standards will benefit everyone. You don’t lose valuable workers and workers don’t end up dead.”

Lord Estermont stepped forward. “These safety standards are all well and fine for restaurants and the like, but as a large manufacturer, the demands you’ve outlined would be crippling.”

Corvo struggled to keep his face neutral when Emily smiled at Lord Estermont.

“Crippling? That’s an apt choice of words, Lord Estermont.” Emily took a steadying breath. After a moment she spoke.

“I’d like to tell you all a story about a young woman from Morley.” The group stayed quiet, but cast confused glances to each other. “Ada Greene came to Gristol late last year searching for work. She’d heard the wages in Discol were better than in Caulkenny, and that large factories were giving preference to foreign workers for some reason.”

The nobles in the room stiffened.

“She got hired in a factory that made machine parts, and the pay was marginally higher than what she made back home. But she also noticed that her wages were lower than the Grisolian employees, and the safety equipment handed out to her Gristol-born coworkers, flimsy as it was, wasn’t supplied to her at all.”

Lord Estermont stood stiff and unmoving.

“This was because Gristol’s fancy new wage law didn’t apply to her.”

It was true. Emily’s new laws only applied to citizens of Gristol working in Gristol. So, large businesses had taken to hiring foreign workers who were exempt from those requirements. And thus, many had been able to pass their financial audits because, technically, they were abiding by the new laws. 

Emily didn’t have the legislative power to take these measures empire-wide. Rulers of the other islands would have to do that, but she hoped other islands would follow in time. Duke Abele— or rather, Armando— was one of Emily’s staunchest supporters and had made his own share of improvements to Serkonos. But he couldn’t be as brazen as Emily. If anyone ever found out he wasn’t the real Duke…

“Well, of course we started hiring foreigners!” shouted Estermont. “These ridiculous handouts are ruinous. We were forced to start hiring from off-island.”

“Really?” Emily asked. “So, hiring these foreign workers and paying them lower wages was absolutely vital to the continuation of your business? Is that what you’re saying?”

Estermont hesitated, but nodded.

“I thought it might have been an act of charity on your part— giving destitute people a chance at a better life.”

Estermont snickered. “Do I seem that sentimental?”

Emily grinned. “No.” She descended the dais towards him. “You all remember the part of Ada’s story where she wasn’t issued the safety equipment required of the other workers?” She didn’t wait for anyone to nod. “Well, one day she was using a diamond tipped blade to cut steel tubing. Most people have to complete a training course to operate that machine but… not Ada. And she wasn’t given the protective eye wear or leather safety gloves the Gristolian employees wore.”

A bead of sweat rolled down Estermont’s temple.

Emily’s face was stoney as she unbuttoned the cuffs on her left arm and rolled up the sleeve to the elbow.

“The blade wasn’t properly oiled at the beginning of the shift by the floor inspector. It bucked in Ada’s hand when it hit the steel…”

She raised her arm to the crowd to reveal a thick scar, about ten inches long. It started just below her wrist and ran nearly to the elbow.

“And nearly took off my arm.”

Estermont’s face paled and he swayed on his feet.

Emily took a step towards him. “You told me that I was lucky you’d decided not to dock my pay for the damaged tubes.”

Another step. “You said hiring me _was_ an act of charity, that I’d never find better work because of my ‘obvious’ lack of intelligence.”

She raised her arms out to her sides. “Different hair, dirty clothes and a Morlian accent was all it took for you to not even recognize me.”

Estermont stood on trembling legs as Emily lifted her arm to his face. “So it’s no wonder you’ve failed to recognize other obvious things: like high attrition of workers and lower profits are associated with sub-par safety regulations.”

Corvo shuddered every time he saw that scar. If the blade had hit an inch higher it would have slit her wrist. She lost a lot of blood on that factory floor. Even with Cecelia and several guards working undercover as laborers alongside her… it could have been fatal.

He swallowed and composed himself. Emily was going to make sure that what happened to her didn’t happen to anyone else.

She raised her voice to the group. “I’ve asked you all here because I’d like your support for an amendment I’m going to propose to Parliament this month, and I’d like it to pass quickly. The proposal will extended our new wage laws to foreign citizens who have valid work permits in Gristol.”

The roars of collective outrage nearly shook the throne room. But Emily didn’t flinch.

“I’m also submitting my safety regulations to Parliament by the end of the year.” She held her hand up for silence— the deep red scar on full display. “And _when_ they go into effect— pending your votes of support— the regulations will also apply to all workers on the island, regardless of citizenship.”

“This is too much!” “It’s madness!” “What will happen to my family if our profits decline?” various business owners shouted.

A few years ago, Emily might have been swayed by their complaints. After all, until she began her undercover sabbaticals, Emily had almost always enjoyed a life of taxpayer-funded luxury.

But living as a commoner, even though it was only for one month a year, opened her eyes to a lot things she’d never have known otherwise. Like how many hours per week an average person had to work just to support themselves on the “competitive” wages offered by the island’s largest companies.

Part of the challenge for Emily wasn’t just seeing what working conditions were like for her people, it was seeing what life was like for them. While undercover, Emily lived solely on the money she earned. She always came back a few pounds thinner.

She also came back better informed and threw herself into her economics lessons. She was becoming a better Empress every year and Corvo radiated pride. But her legislative power in these matters was limited.

“I’m not trying to drive you all into the poor house. We can still be extremely rich.” Emily was sure to include herself in the group of wealthy people. “But making some sacrifices to reduce the desperation of the poor will benefit everyone.”

“Soon you’ll want our taxes to go towards giving handouts to people who can’t work!” Brisby shouted.

Emily had a number of scandalous proposals she’d be introducing over the next few decades, and that was one of them. But Corvo knew she couldn’t let the wealthiest citizens of Gristol know about those plans yet.

“I know that for every measure I pass, you’ll push back. I raise wages, and the landlords among you will raise your rents. I try to improve the lives of my citizens and you’ll just hire workers from other nations within the Empire. For every step forward you’ll pull us all one step back for your own short-term gain.”

She took a breath and straightened her shoulders. “So know this. I won’t stop trying to make our society safer and more prosperous. For everyone. That includes those of us in this room. It might not seem like it now, but if you help me pass the kinds of laws that sting your purses today, in ten years time we’ll all be better off for it. If you give it a chance. If not…” Emily shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and shrugged. “It’ll just take longer. Because I am _not_ going to stop.”

“That being said, I’m open to suggestions. If you feel my policies will unduly harm you, you’re free to suggest alternatives. But know that you aren’t alone in feeling the pinch of these new measures.”

She waved to the clerks at the corners of the rooms. They stepped forward and began handing out packets to the gathered business owners. “The front pages are a detailed accounting of the taxpayer funds that keep me in the lifestyle I’ve enjoyed since birth. And the pages at the back of your packets show the reduction of my allowances, effective today.”

The crowd was silent except for the flipping of pages and a few gasps. Corvo had already seen the documents. Emily was reducing most of her personal allowances by half or more. She’d still live well, but not lavishly.

Lord Grimble spoke up after a few moments. “Will these cuts translate into a small reduction of our taxes?”

Emily shook her head. “No.”

The group grumbled collectively and a few people hurled their packets to the floor like children. But Emily paid them no mind.

“The funds that are no longer being used to finance my lifestyle will be diverted to the Department of Labor.”

Those funds would only be a drop in the bucket for the DoL budget. But Corvo understood. Emily was making a clear statement about her priorities.

Lady Brisby stepped forward. “Your Highness, I do understand the _theoretical_ good these measures can have on all members of society. I’ve read Donovan’s theories of collective economics and Goodwin’s social commentaries about group bargaining. But the real world is far more complicated than any single economic theory alone can describe. I can point to at least three things you’ve overlooked in these figures.”

For the first time since she’d begun speaking, Emily smiled genuinely. “I’d be more than happy to listen Lady Brisby, as long as you’ll do me the same courtesy.”

Emily stepped into the crowd. Corvo’s eyes widened. That was not something he’d been warned about! But Alexi was at her side and Corvo took a few steps back to keep eyes on the crowd as a whole. He clenched his left hand and felt the tingle of the Void flow through him. The instant something looked off, he’d stop time and get Emily to safety, Abbey be damned.

His shoulders tensed as Emily shook Lady Brisby’s hand, and listened attentively to her concerns. For nearly thirty minutes she mingled with furious aristocrats and made a genuine effort to win them over to her policies.

He doubted she was going to sway anyone’s opinion today, but at least she’d shown no fear. That was worth a lot given how vocal many were making their outrage. Corvo calmed himself with the knowledge that if anyone had hard plans to act against Emily, they’d make some attempt to bite their tongue for appearances. That they were cursing in her face was a good sign.

And for those among them who whispered, Corvo had a secret pair of eyes and ears.

Cecelia was probably in the crowd right now, eavesdropping on hushed conversations. He looked for the telltale shifting of bodies, as people moved out of her way without even realizing it. In a tight crowd, that was how he’d come to find her when she used her ability to slip past everyone’s eyes.

The corners of Corvo’s mouth turned downwards. If she was out there, she was sticking to the corners. No one in the mass of people moved in any unexpected ways. Odd. Cecelia said she be here.

His eyes continued to scan the room as the nobles grumbled among themselves and angrily flipped through the documents they’d been given.

A tug on his shirt sleeve drew his attention. “Cecelia!”

Corvo turned to face his “assistant.” Officially, that was Cecelia’s position, though her salary was a great deal higher than what was standard. She ran errands and delivered messages to keep up appearances, though she rarely risked showing herself in large groups like this.

Corvo took her through the door at the rear of the throne room for some privacy. “What’s wrong? Did you overhear something urgent?” That was the only reason she’d show herself rather than brief him in his office privately.

“I just got here,” she whispered. “Something happened when I was doing recon at the west gate.”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. But I ran into someone.” Cecelia pulled the cap from her head and turned it back and forth in her hands. “Ceòl is in your office.”

Corvo made Cecelia repeat herself three times.

“How?”

“He sent for me the usual way. Only this time _he_ was waiting at the shrine. Naked.” Cecelia rocked back on her heels. “I gave him some of my clothes and snuck him through security. I figured your office was the best place to stash him until you two can figure out what to do next.”

Corvo glanced back into the throne room. Half the nobles had stormed out by now, and the remaining ones were actually speaking to Emily, albeit through huffs and clenched teeth. Chances of an incident were low.

Corvo excused himself and left Alexi and Cecelia to watch Emily’s back.

The ride down the elevator was agonizingly slow. Corvo shifted his weight from foot to foot, willing the box to descend faster. When the door finally opened he broke into a jog, waving off concerned guards en route, and flung open the doors of his office.

His heart soared when he saw the figure standing next to the window.

“Hello, Corvo.”

Corvo was across the room and wrapping Ceòl in his arms before the doors even shut behind him. He buried his nose in Ceòl’s hair and took a deep breath.

“I told you I’d see you soon,” Ceòl whispered.

Corvo frowned. “You said ‘with any luck’ you’d see me soon. What happened?” His heart pounded behind his ribs. “Is it Delilah?”

“No, she’s still contained. And should stay that way indefinitely.” Ceòl gazed at the Dunwall skyline. “Someone else tried to kill me this time.”

Corvo moved behind Ceòl to share the view and placed his hands on his lover’s hips. “Who do I need to protect you from now?”

“No one,” he replied. “They think I’m dead. Let them think it.”

Corvo paused. “Did you fake your death?”

Ceòl smirked. “I learned a lot by watching you.”

* * *

Corvo slumped on the sofa in the corner of his office as Ceòl caught him up to speed. 

“You knew all along you were living on borrowed time.”

Ceòl nodded.

He clenched his jaw. “Damn you. You could have— I could have—”

“Could have what?”

Corvo hung his head. He had no idea. He was still trying to wrap his head around everything he’d just been told! A cult had formed in Serkonos around a piece of a dead god that still had a few twitches of energy left within it. And today, that cult tried to kill Ceòl to make way for a new god of their choosing.

Corvo looked up from the carpet. “I could have gotten to the knife before they did.”

Ceòl shrugged. “Possibly. But that would have meant leaving Emily unguarded while she was politically vulnerable. If I’d told you about the danger the knife posed to me, you would have been torn between the two of us. I didn’t want that.” He flopped back against the cushions. “So I asked someone else to find it.”

“Someone who failed,” Corvo grumbled.

Ceòl sighed. “Why do I ask him to do anything?”

Corvo narrowed his eyes. “Who was it?”

“No one you’d recognize.”

Corvo threw up his hands in surrender. Fine. He didn’t need to know who every Marked person in the Isles was. He paced to his desk and took a calming breath.

“Are you angry?” Ceòl asked.

Corvo nodded, fists resting knuckle-down on the top of his desk.

“At _me_?”

Corvo’s continued glare was a clear affirmative.

“Why are you angry at me?”

“Because you told me not to worry!” Corvo shouted. “You kept me in the dark. Again!”

He was struck by his own words. This is exactly how Emily felt wasn’t it? Perhaps the cosmos was making sure he’d learned his lesson. But for now, he had this frustrating young man to deal with.

“Last night, you knew you were in danger and didn’t tell me because you were so confident that you could escape your fate. But what if you hadn’t?”

“I didn’t tell you I was in danger because they were minutes away and you were in Dunwall. You couldn’t have stopped them.”

Corvo strode into Ceòl’s space and pulled him close. “I could have said goodbye,” he hissed. “If they’d succeeded, that would have been our last kiss. And I’d have gone about my day not knowing.”

Ceòl’s voice was a whisper when he said, “I’m sorry.” He relaxed under Corvo’s hands. “I was caught off guard. In all the possibilities I saw, Malchiodi never got as far as he did. In most, he kept his research a secret. In others, he was discovered and executed in his attempt to reach me. In none them did he make an argument for my death so convincingly that he won a vote! I never… I didn’t…”

Corvo sighed and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“I was such a fool, thinking I had more control over the inevitable than I did,” Ceòl whispered.

“A very human trait.”

“I have been very human this last decade haven’t I?”

Corvo linked their hands together and squeezed. “So if you’d accepted your death was inevitable, why bother escaping them?”

“Spite. I didn’t want to give any more cultists the satisfaction of killing me. I waited too long to escape the last cult.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “This time, I saw an out and took it.” Ceòl cleared his throat and added, “Plus, you wouldn’t have taken my death very well. Now, with any luck, I still get to outlive you. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

It was.

“But now that you’re here, the Void is growing unstable. How do we stop it?” Corvo asked.

“Stop what?”

“The end of the world, Ceòl. The deterioration of the Void. The first time you came to Dunwall Tower, you said there’d be consequences if the Void stayed empty too long.”

Ceòl crossed his arms. “Are you willing to sacrifice someone, Corvo?”

He paused. “There’s got to be another way.”

Ceòl shook his head. “Every other cycle has been stopped by a sacrifice. If there is another way, I haven’t seen it.”

“But you haven’t seen everything. There might be something else we can…” He shuddered with the memory of holding Ceòl under the water. “I can’t kill you again. I won’t.”

“You won’t have to,” Ceòl assured him. “I don’t think it would work a second time.” He took Corvo’s face between his hands. “You and I will be long gone by the time people start to notice something is wrong. Emily too.”

“And the generations after that? What about them?”

Ceòl hung his head. “It’s not that I don’t care. It’s just—” He pulled his lower lip between his teeth. “Short of doing things the ‘old-fashioned way’ I don’t know how we’d go about stabilizing the Void. And if neither of us is willing to take that step, maybe we should let the Ascended do what they’re destined to do.”

“You mean kill someone.”

Ceòl didn’t reply.

“You really expect me to sit in Dunwall while a dangerous cult plots someone’s murder? I’m going to find them and—”

“No!” Ceòl snapped. “Don’t you dare!”

They sat in silence for several minutes, the air heavy between them.

Finally, Corvo spoke. “Tell me what you need.”

“What I… need?”

“I can’t save the world right this moment so there’s no point in twisting myself into knots. What I _can_ do, what I should have been doing, is seeing to you. So…” He leaned in close. “Tell me what you need.”

Ceòl furrowed his brows and seemed to ponder that for a few moments. “I need everything, don’t I? Clothes. Shelter. Money.” He exhaled a shaky breath. “Of course, you’re not obligated to—”

Corvo’s grin nearly split his face. “Consider it done.”


	8. Chapter 8

Corvo held tightly to Ceòl’s hand as he led him through a dark alley in the Old Waterfront district. This time of night, no one was wandering these streets unless they were up to something, and the two of them were no exception. 

At least Corvo looked the part of shady character up to no good. He had a number of outfits specifically for occasions where he needed to navigate the seedier parts of Dunwall and not appear out of place. Ceòl on the other hand…

He’d asked for help starting a new life and Corvo had obliged him immediately. Within hours, Corvo arranged for the guest room attached to his own— a space he’d used for years as an oversized personal office — be cleared out and set up for a long-term guest. Then, he’d gotten Ceòl a fitting with Darion and commissioned an entire wardrobe. Corvo paid with his personal funds rather than the Tower’s discretionary allowances. The order would take time to complete, but Darion altered a few pieces “off the rack” to fit Ceòl perfectly in a matter of hours. And since this was Darion, those clothes were strikingly fashionable.

So, Ceòl looked a bit out-of-place in his fitted navy vest and dress pants. 

They attracted plenty of stares from the characters who lingered on the streets this time of night. Corvo supposed they made quite a sight: greying older man dressed like a dockhand, dragging a posh young man through an alley. Still, no one made to alert the guards.

“Given any thought to your backstory?” Corvo asked.

“I can pass for Tyvian.” Ceòl paused. “Southern Tyvian. Perhaps near Caltan. As for the rest…”

“You’ll have a few hours to think it over while he works. But once the ink is dry, you’re committed to the details.”

Ten years ago, Corvo used his authority to avoid questions about the undocumented young man staying in the guest wing. But now the Tower had much stricter rules about personnel and visitor admission — rules Corvo himself put into place— and since Ceòl was going be living there, his identity needed to pass scrutiny as soon as possible. Hence, this secret outing.

The air was still pleasantly warm despite the late hour, but Ceòl trembled all over. Corvo stopped to rub his palms briskly over his love’s arms. But the friction didn’t help the shaking.

“Are you alright? You can’t be cold.”

“Still taking it all in,” Ceòl replied softly. “That I’m…”

Human. Permanently.

He’d been exhausted and in shock the first time, and this time was no different. Ceòl slept for hours after their conversation in his office, only waking to be measured for some new clothes and eat a small dinner. Then he’d slept until Corvo woke him for this late night errand.

Corvo stopped in front of a steel-reinforced door with a flickering lantern bulb. He licked the tips of his fingers and took hold of the light, quickly screwing it in until its glow was steady. He waited a few seconds, then knocked seven times.

The viewing slot on the door slid open. “Attano.”

“Gunter.”

The door swung open silently— a good criminal keeps the hinges well-oiled— and Gunter waved them both inside. He grumbled and coughed as he led them down the narrow corridor to his workshop. It was a small space for such a prolific craftsman. However, Gunter’s skill was unmatched in all the Isles, so Corvo knew better than to judge the dingy basement room where he created his masterpieces.

This arrangement with Gunter was a precarious one. The man wasn’t violent or dangerous, but many of his customers were. And in return for information on only the worst villains of the Isles, Corvo let him continue to serve the common criminals of Dunwall. And as a courtesy, Gunter supplied him with forged documents for Emily’s annual undercover work.

Gunter stretched and cracked his back, flicking on light switches as he walked the room. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“I need a rush job.”

Gunter scoffed. “It’s three in the fuckin’ morning. It can’t wait?”

Corvo motioned to Ceòl. “He needs the works, including an Expatriation Permit from Tyvia and Work Authorization for Gristol.And he needs it now.”

Gunter choked. “All that on a rush job? You’re outta your mind! That’ll take three days minimum. I don’t have the right inks on hand, and then I’ll need to mix custom dyes to keep from smudging on the new card stock the work auth offices started using last month. Not to mention—”

“You have reserves of all those things stashed away for emergencies, just in case you need to disappear yourself,” Ceòl interrupted cooly. “You even have the brand new watermarked paper issued by the Tyvian Expatriation Office. Impossible to get, unless you have a source in the Presidium— like a high-level clerk with access to restricted supplies.” Ceòl stepped forward. “You _can_ issue the documents tonight, but wanted to check with your contacts to see if I’m someone worth selling out. I’m not. And even I were, you don’t want to cross Corvo.” 

Gunter stood perfectly still, eyes locked onto Ceòl like a small prey animal that just scented a predator on the wind. “How the fuck do you know that?”

“That’s not important,” Corvo said. “What’s important is that he has impeccable papers come morning. I’ll even pay.” He tossed a bag of coin onto the nearby table.

Gunter wasted no time, pouting when he pulled the custom inks and papers from his stash in the ceiling. A good forger would have document templates already made, in case of a rush order. But Gunter was a great forger. He never had documents prepared in advance.That way, if the City Watch ever raided his place, all they’d find were a inks, papers, a printing press and treated leather— perfectly innocent if they didn’t realize what they were looking at. And if Gunter had a rush job— like now—he could recreate any document he’d ever seen from memory alone, and fast enough to make your head spin, so templates were an unnecessary risk for him.

While Gunter worked, Corvo took Ceòl to the silvergraph corner. He might not be able to forge elaborate documents, but he could take a picture.

While he was setting up the equipment he pulled Ceòl close. “That was amazing,” he whispered. “You saw a lot in the Void.”

Ceòl leaned in and whispered into Corvo’s ear. “I guessed.”

His eyes shot wide. “You guessed?”

“A man like him, with an operation like this? I figured he must have a stash of supplies for personal use. Not having pre-made templates is understandable, but there’d be little reason not to pre-mix the custom inks and stash them away. And when you mentioned the Tyvian Expatriation Permit…”

Corvo nodded. He’d seen it too. “The corner of his mouth ticked. He almost smiled.”

“He’s giddy with himself for getting the new watermarks. And the best guess as to how he got them…” Ceòl waved his hand lazily in the air.

Corvo’s face nearly ached with the huge grin. “You’re amazing.”

Ceòl shrugged and took a seat on the stool in front of the plain white backdrop.

“So, what do you want your new name to be?” Corvo asked after a few minutes of silence.

“I’m not sure.” Ceòl pulled his lower lip between his teeth and Corvo was tempted to stride over to him for a kiss. But it was a small workshop and Gunter didn’t need to know just how personal this request was.

“Lets keep the first name similar. I’d hate to slip up in public.” Corvo winked. “For a surname, is there something you’d like to use? Did you have one before?”

“No. I didn’t.”

“Well, now you can chose one. I don’t know which names are common around Caltan, but you probably do.”

Ceòl stared into the mid-distance and didn’t respond.

“Or we could go with something unique. Something that describes you.”

Ceòl raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”

“Krasivyy?” He readied the powder.

Ceòl rolled his eyes. “That’s in the eye of the beholder.”

“Zagadka?” He slid the plate into the drop and cranked the wheel.

“Am I now?” Ceòl looked away and raised his collar to hide the lower half of his face. “Should I look the part in my picture?”

“Smut’yan?”

Ceòl barked a laugh and Corvo immediately hit the button on the silvergraph. Ceòl flailed and nearly fell off the stool at the unexpected flash. Corvo chuckled into his fist at the pouty glare shot his way.

“Those plates are expensive!” Gunter barked. “Waste another one and I charge extra!”

“I wasn’t wasting it. I’d like that one developed. It just won’t go on his papers.”

Gunter grumbled under his breath but kept his opinions to himself.

“What are you going to use _that_ picture for?”

“For me. To have.”

Ceòl’s eyes widened and his cheeks tinged pink. “And if someone asks why you have a picture of me?”

Corvo shrugged. “Then they’ll have to explain why they were going through my things.”

He set to work reapplying powder and readied another plate for the official picture.

Ceòl sat with his hands folded neatly in his lap, eyes cast to his shoes. After a moment he spoke, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t realize you knew so much Tyvian.”

“Enough to get by. I’m not fluent though.” He refocused the lenses. “I assume you are?”

Ceòl nodded.

They eventually got an acceptable silvergraph of Ceòl to use for his documents. Corvo kept having to adjust the lighting to compensate for the fairness of Ceòl’s skin against the white backdrop. Perhaps if he’d been wearing darker clothing it wouldn’t have taken so long, but his shirt was white, and his navy vest had to be removed for the official pictures. The vest was a Darion original and wouldn’t have been in Ceòl’s possession when the image was supposedly taken in Caltan.

It was everything Corvo could do to keep his hands to himself while they waited on Gunter. Ceòl was here! In the real world! Their shared dreams were amazing, and he’d have gladly spent the rest of his life satisfied with their unconscious rendezvous. But now, the possibilities were endless!

With Ceòl’s room attached to his own, their private life could stay private. There was sure to be gossip, but he and Emily were much more established in their positions than they were a decade ago. And he doubted Khulan would risk storming the Tower to arrest him over any Stricture violations.

Corvo’s gut twisted into a knot. Khulan. He’d need to be told about this and it was not going to go well. Corvo shook his head. An issue for later.

For now, they needed to figure out Ceòl’s official reason for being at the Tower. Citing him as a personal guest of Corvo’s would only work for so long. What was Ceòl going to do with his new life? He could excel in any field, Corvo was sure. And with an official identity and the right references, he could do anything. Go anywhere.

Corvo’s stomach sank. There was no guarantee Ceòl would stay, was there? Their circumstances had changed. Staying together would mean Ceòl staying in one place, whereas before he had the entire Void at his fingertips. What if he grew bored living at the Tower and wanted to travel the Isles? Revisit Pandyssia?

Gunter finished the documents just before sunrise.

Corvo was concerned the rush job combined with the late hour might have left some flaws in the work but, as usual, Gunter was a master of his craft.

“Same deal as always? I give you the blanks and you tell me to fuck off while you fill ‘em out?” Gunter grumbled.

Corvo reached for the print blocks and began lining them up. “I know how to use your press by now. Don’t worry.”

“Be sure to use the right fonts. You know the ones for all the Gristol offices, but Tyvia changed theirs last year. It’s—”

“Samara font, size 8. I know. Goodnight, Gunter.”

“Don’t wake me up again. You can see yourselves out when you’re done.”

Corvo prepared the basic information. City of birth: Caltan. Date of birth: 7 Hearths, 1831. Height: 5’9”. Hair: Black. Eyes: Green.

“And your name?” Corvo asked.

Ceòl reached for the tiny print blocks and began aligning the letters. “I think ‘Cole’ will suffice. And as for the surname…”

He slid blocks into place one by one. C-H-E-L-O-V-E-K.

“Chelovek?” Corvo snorted. “Seriously?”

“You said to pick a name that described me.”

“Well… it’s accurate.” He took Ceòl under the chin and lifted his face. “Are you sure?”

Before Corvo could stop him, Ceòl pulled the lever and the blocks pressed neatly into the paper. There was no changing it now without asking Gunter to redo the document.

One by one, they added the relevant information to all of Ceòl’s papers. Gunter had already forged the signatures of the necessary officials. By the time their stomachs were rumbling for breakfast, Ceòl had a new identity. 

Corvo turned the documents over in his hands. They were perfect to the naked eye, but he wanted to be sure. He used magnification glasses on the workbench and inspected every detail.

Still flawless.

“It frightens me how good these are.” Corvo, satisfied, passed them over to Ceòl. “Makes me wonder how many of Gunter’s forgeries have slipped by me over the years.”

Ceòl hummed. “I’m sure he signs his work, like any artist.”

Corvo watched as Ceòl took the stack of documents between his long fingers and examined each one. He viewed the inks at different angles, checked the stitching of the passbook, felt along the leather binding of the identity documents.

He huffed. “These are good.”

Then Ceòl took a step back and looked at the workstation, gaze sweeping over the equipment until his eyes lit up. He reached for a bulb on the top shelf and screwed it into the work lamp. It glowed a strange purple color, not unlike the Outsider shrines, and Ceòl angled the Expatriation Permit under the lamp.

There! In the lower right corner, hidden among the intricate filigree in the border, were two small letters glowing bright white! G.B.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Corvo huffed. “All this time.”

Corvo watched as Ceòl checked each document. Every one had Gunter’s initials in one of the corners! He carefully dogeared each place where a secret signature was located. Then he unscrewed the bulb and carefully replaced it atop the layer of dust on the top shelf, precisely aligning it with its previous spot.

“We may be the only people who know how to identify Gunter’s forgeries,” Ceòl said. “I’ll age these documents a bit when we get back to the Tower and damage each of the corners that have his initials. It should look like normal wear and tear, and that way the documents will pass even our scrutiny.”

“Be my apprentice,” Corvo blurted out.

“What?”

“My apprentice. As spymaster.” He ran a hand over his beard. “I’ve been trying to think of what to tell people about you when we get back to the Tower. I offered you the job once when I thought I was going to die. But now that you’re here…” He trailed off. “And I do need to start thinking about who’s going replace me one day.”

“And Emily is too old for a music tutor,” Ceòl joked.

“Is that a yes?”

Ceòl crossed his arms and furrowed his brow. After a minute he sighed. “I’ll do it.”

“You don’t seem very excited. Are you—”

“It’s work I’m well suited to, and you can trust me not to plot against Emily. So yes, I accept.”

Corvo pulled him close and felt Ceòl relax in his arms. “And it would explain why I arranged for your room to be the one adjoining mine.”

Ceòl chuckled into Corvo’s chest. “I’m sure my duties will require me to come and go from your bedroom at all hours.”

“I can’t wait.”

* * *

They arrived at Dunwall Tower well after sunrise, Corvo having changed back into his normal clothes before they got to Barrowe Street. Ceòl tried not to fidget under the gazes of so many people as they made their way through security and into the main hall. The staff knew better than to ask questions about the Royal Spymaster’s coming and goings, but Ceòl did attract some stares. No doubt the servants were already gossiping.

Corvo led him to the throne room atop the Tower. “She’s going to see you soon enough anyway,” he whispered as the elevator ascended. “May as well get it over with.”

The guard on duty informed Corvo that Emily and Alexi were sharing a breakfast in the small sitting area outside of her rooms. He knocked and peeked his head inside when she called out to enter.

“Father!” Ceòl heard her cry out from behind Corvo’s bulk. “What’s this I hear about turning your office back into a guest room? And ordering a four season wardrobe from Darion?”

Corvo scratched the back of his head. “About that. I wanted to tell you as soon as it happened, but you were in meetings and…”

“I just slashed my personal allowances by over 50% and within hours you start redecorating and ordering new clothes? I know you used your own money, but your salary comes from the taxpayers, so it still looks bad.”

Ceòl cleared his throat and Corvo moved to the side.

Emily dropped her toast.

“Apologies, Your Highness.” He bowed. “My arrival was unexpected and Corvo was trying to be accommodating.”

Emily rose slowly from her seat. “Why is the Outsider standing in my breakfast nook?”

Alexi choked on her tea. “What?”

“Remember when I told you my father had a secret lover?”

Alexi sputtered. “I thought you were joking.” She narrowed her eyes at Ceòl. “And that is not the Outsider.”

“Not anymore.” Corvo said as he rubbed a hand along Ceòl’s back. “I know I should have gone through proper channels before I started settling him in, but it was last-minute.”

Ceòl watched with amusement as Alexi looked from Emily to Corvo and back again. “Is this a prank? The two of you are getting along again and you’re trying to get one over on me?”

Emily rubbed her temples as if a headache was coming on. “I wish it was.”

While Corvo briefed them on everything, Ceòl enjoyed a breakfast that was fairly meager by Tower standards, yet he inhaled his food with gusto. There was wheat toast with fruit spread, eggs, and steamed fish with a savory sauce. His new body needed fuel and he’d been too nervous to eat much yesterday.

Now it was all hitting him. This was real. He was “real.”

“Does Khulan know?” Emily asked.

Corvo shook his head.

“He’s going to be livid.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “The entire reason he stopped your execution was to keep me away from the Outsider. Once he finds out Ceòl is living in the Tower, he might recant his statement!”

“I doubt it,” Corvo replied. “He’d have to admit to lying about what happened with Delilah.”

“We should tell him sooner rather than later,” Ceòl suggested. “If he finds out from anyone else, he’ll feel betrayed.”

“And if he doesn’t take it well?” Corvo clasped Ceòl’s shoulder and squeezed.

“After everything he’s done to protect you, I don’t think he’ll be impulsive.”

Ceòl hoped.

* * *

Corvo sent word to Khulan requesting a meeting at the High Overseer’s earliest convenience. Ceòl assumed Khulan would reply promptly, but neither he nor Corvo expected the messenger to return with word that Khulan was already on his way! And apparently, he was visibly upset about something. 

Ceòl sat on the small sofa in the back corner of Corvo’s office, stomach twisted into knots. If he escaped one group of fanatics just to be killed by the leader of another in under a day…

A knock broke him out of his thoughts and Corvo signaled for Ceòl to stay back before he opened the door of his office. Khulan barged inside, face red and eyes wide. Ceòl stiffened in the corner. But the the High Overseer’s focus was aimed directly at Corvo.

“I got your request for a meeting just as I was sending my own request to you! I assume this is because of what’s happened.”

“What’s happened?” Corvo kept his tone deliberately neutral.

Khulan paused next to Corvo’s side. “The Outsider… is dead! Isn’t that why you requested a meeting out of the blue?”

Corvo startled. “How do you know?”

“I received word from Sister Rosewyn this morning. She said I was going to find out the news soon, and ordered me to hold my ‘reckless tongue’. She says the Oracular sisters already know about what happened and are keeping their own council on the matter. She even instructed me to burn her letter after I’d read it! I’m _forbidden_ me to tell anyone who isn’t already in the know, even my brothers.” Panic tinged Khulan’s voice. “And since there’s only one person who might know about the Outsider’s fate…”

Khulan still hadn’t turned to the back corner of the office, and Ceòl wondered how awkward this was going to get.

Corvo sighed. “It’s true. A cult purged him from the Void.”

Khulan sidled up beside Corvo. “I wasn’t expecting his cycle to come to an end yet. Neither were the Oracles.”

Ceòl raised his eyebrow from his spot in the back of the office.

“So you knew about this? At least in part?” Corvo asked.

“The Oracles know more than I do. But as High Overseer I was made aware that the Outsider we knew was not the first vile being to inhabit the Void. Nor will he be the last.”

Corvo crossed his arms and huffed. “Vile being.”

Khulan stiffened, then hung his head. When he spoke again, his voice was soft. “I never understood, much less approved, of whatever unnatural union you shared with him. It was the source of most of my sleepless nights these last few years. But I know you, and you wouldn’t have consorted with a being of malice. So, I’d come to accept that the Outsider was… a complicated thing.”

Ceòl watched as Khulan put a hand on Corvo’s shoulder. The touch was gentle and Khulan’s thumb traveled in soothing circles.

Khulan leaned in close and whispered, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

And Ceòl decided that was quite enough of that.

“What a touching eulogy.” Ceòl rose from his seat in the corner. The way Khulan yelped almost made him grin. But coming off as smarmy wouldn’t do him any favors, so Ceòl kept his face politely neutral.

“H- how?” Khulan sputtered. “Where did he come from?”

“I was sitting right over there.”

Corvo put a hand on Khulan’s chest when he began to cross the room. “The Outsider is dead. This is Ceòl.”

“And what,” Khulan hissed between his teeth, “is Ceòl?”

Ceòl approached slowly. “Human.”

Khulan’s eyes darted from Corvo to Ceòl and back again. “The Oracles know of _this_?” he growled.

Ceòl shrugged. “I’m not sure how much they know. But since you’re forbidden to speak about it, and Rosewyn specifically warned you not to be reckless with your tongue…”

Khulan collapsed into a chair. “Could the Oracles be corrupted again? We’ve taken every precaution but—”

“I have no reason to believe they’re being influenced.” Ceòl deposited himself in the chair across from him. “Perhaps they had a vision of something terrible happening if people found out the truth. And since I doubt they care what happens to me…”

Khulan’s face was sour. “Some greater ill might befall the Isles if people knew.”

“You know the Abbey uses fear of me to keep people united. You were never blind to that.”

“No, but I believe in it all the same.” The scowl he directed at Ceòl felt like blades against his skin. “You brought pain and suffering to the people with your blood sacrifices and rituals. Tempting men to their ruin.”

“I never asked anyone to do those things,” Ceòl spat. “I never had to tempt men to selfishness or cruelty. If I wanted to see those things, I only had to sit back and watch. I’m ‘complicated’, remember?”

“Don’t you dare imply you never brought evil unto this world,” Khulan snarled. “Delilah was proof of that.”

“That’s enough!” Corvo stood between them. “We’re here to discuss the future not rehash the past.” He turned to Khulan. “I requested this meeting to introduce you to Ceòl. I vowed to be straightforward with you, and I’m keeping that promise. I was never going to hide him from you.”

Khulan pursed his lips. “Why?”

“Because I respect you.”

Corvo pulled a third chair over and sat across from the both of them. It reminded Ceòl of a schoolteacher trying to settle a squabble between students and he failed to suppress the fond smile stretching across his lips.

“I’ve asked him to be my apprentice.” Khulan shot to his feet but Corvo was there to settle him. “Let me finish.”

Khulan took his seat again, reluctantly.

“I know you wanted to keep Emily outside his sphere of influence. So, if this is going to be a problem, I’ll give you an opportunity to veto his application.” He pointed a finger in Khulan’s direction. “But not to out him or harm him in any way.”

Khulan gazed at his folded hands. “Rosewyn ordered my silence, so I cannot seek counsel from my brothers or from the sisters. I don’t know what to make of this. Any of it.”

“Trust your instincts,” Ceòl suggested. “Your gut told you Corvo was a good man. Even after everything that you’ve learned about him, you know it to be true. So, get to know me. Listen to your gut. If you decide I’m untrustworthy, you can end my career in intelligence before it even begins.”

Khulan ran his hands over his face. “I don’t know what to think. But if the Oracles demand my silence, so be it.” He rose from his chair and left the office without casting a backwards glance.

After a moment of silence Ceòl spoke. “Did that go well? I can’t tell.”

Corvo took his hand and squeezed. “I suppose we’ll see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> krasivyy- handsome/beauty  
> zagadka- enigma  
> smut’yan- troublemaker  
> chelovek- human (literally), dude/guy (colloquially)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little slice-of-life reverie before plot stuff catches up to our guys in the next chapter!

Weeks passed and no Overseers came marching on the Tower. So, whatever crisis he was having, Khulan hadn’t told anyone about Ceòl. But The Abbey of the Everyman wasn’t the only fanatical organization Corvo was worried about. 

He sifted through the reports from Karnaca that had arrived that morning.

Corvo hadn’t mentioned the cult again after that first day— the subject would only prompt Ceòl to argue about the futility of trying to stop their plans. So, Corvo put out feelers to his now extensive network of spies in Serkonos. And the reports from his spies revealed…

Nothing.

There were plenty of people in Karnaca dabbling in the dark arts, but not like the cult Ceòl described. And no one had even heard of the quarry where these people supposedly made their headquarters! He hated to think Ceòl lied to him, but that was preferable to the scarier possibility— that the Ascended were so adept at secrecy they operated without a whisper. If the latter were true, Ceòl might still be in danger.

He put down the papers and sent two men to guard Ceòl.

Refocusing on the reports, the closest thing Corvo could find to a cult in Karnaca was a new gang west of Paolo’s territory. The Eyeless weren’t “new” to Karnaca, per se. They’d been around for almost a decade, but their membership had risen sharply the last few years. Rumor had it they specialized in carving bone charms. Whether or not their magical talismans were real, the promise of otherworldly power had been a successful recruiting tool in the aftermath of Delilah’s attempted coup.

Paolo and Jeanette Lee locked horns as the Howlers tried moving west and the Eyeless tried moving east. To their credit, the Howlers kept civilians out of it. Paolo had been true to his word about keeping his people in line. But the Eyeless didn’t care who got caught in the crossfire.

Armando was doing what he could to stem their chaos, but he was busy purging the worst scum from the ranks of the Grand Guard. After being discharged from the Guard, many of those deemed “unfit to serve honorably” found their way to one gang or the other.

Unintended consequences.

Still, Corvo couldn’t find a connection between the Eyeless and a secret cult living isolated on a mountain. He considered writing to Paolo for intelligence, but hesitated. Their business relationship was precarious enough, so he’d leave that as a last resort. No need owing that man a favor.

A quick knock on the door preceded the sound of the deadbolt unlatching. Corvo smiled and rose to greet his newest apprentice, back from a series of afternoon errands. But Corvo’s smile waned when he saw Ceòl’s expression.

“Corvo…” Ceòl’s voice was low and cold, like a warning. “What is the meaning of this?” He gestured to the two men standing at his 4 and 8 o’clock.

“Those are guards,” Corvo said plainly.

Ceòl’s face puckered. “Why are they guarding _me_?”

“Because I told them to.” Corvo waved the men off. “I can take it from here.” Once they were alone behind the thick oak doors, Corvo leaned in for a kiss, but Ceòl pulled away.

“They followed me everywhere today. My only moment of privacy was a bowel movement.”

“That’s their job.”

“Call them off. I don’t like being watched.”

Corvo felt a smug smile tug at the corner of his cheeks. “Turnabout is fair play?” he teased.

Ceòl narrowed his eyes. “No.”

Corvo sighed and pulled him close. “Those cultists tried to kill you. If they figure out they didn’t succeed…”

“They got what they wanted when they rid the Void of me. They don’t have any reason to harm me now that I’m not in their way.”

“You don’t know that. You thought they’d spend a century just debating what to do. You could be wrong about how they’ll react to your humanity.” Corvo ran his hands along Ceòl’s arms. “You said they have visions. What if one of those visions shows you here and they decide you’re a threat?”

Ceòl relaxed in Corvo’s grip. “You’re really worried.”

“Of course I am.”

“What would it take for you not to worry?” Ceòl asked. 

Corvo groaned. “It’s only two guards. If anything happened to you—”

Ceòl cut him off with a raised palm. “What would it take for you to worry less.”

Corvo thought about that for a moment. Finally he said, “You should learn how to fight.”

“Like… combat?”

“I’d worry less if you could handle yourself.”

Ceòl wrung his hands. “I’m not sure I’ll be any good.”

“I’m sure you’re a natural.”

* * *

He was not a natural. 

Ceòl knew he wouldn’t be. As much as Corvo preened over his “instinctive talent” for music, mathematics and more, Ceòl wasn’t naturally adept at any of those things. He was just very old. Anyone who spent four thousand years in a god-like state would know the things he knew.

Just like anyone who had never thrown a serious punch in his life would need some time to master the basics. Lots of time, apparently.

Ceòl winced as pain shot from his wrist to his elbow. Again.

“You’re overextending your arm,” Corvo said patiently. His deep voice echoed in the empty warehouse he’d chosen for their private training session. “Remember to lock your wrist.”

Ceòl nodded and shook out his throbbing hand. He _knew_ that. Intellectually, he knew a great deal about how to use biology and physics to his advantage in a fight. But applying those things in practice wasn’t easy. His mind told his body what to do, but the message got lost somewhere along the nerves and his body fell back on what it knew: panicked flailing followed by submission to a larger opponent.

He glanced over his shoulder while he waited for the stinging in his wrist to wane. Emily, Alexi, and Cecelia were here as well. Thankfully, the three of them were busy sparring with each other and politely ignored his remedial learning.

Emily fought Alexi with a dulled sparring sword while Cecelia moved in and out of her vision, striking Emily from behind once she’d forgotten a second opponent was there. Emily stumbled with each surprise attack, refocusing on Cecelia only to be ambushed by Alexi. The young empress defended herself from blow after blow with practiced swiftness. But Alexi and Cecelia had practice in their own unique forms of combat, and they weren’t going easy on her.

Corvo hummed. “Maybe we should focus more on defensive fighting for now.” He rolled up his sleeves to the elbow and positioned himself behind Ceòl. He wrapped his thick arms around him, pinning Ceòl’s arms to his sides.

Ceòl shivered a bit when he felt Corvo’s breath on his neck. “And I want to escape this position why?” he asked.

Corvo chuckled. “Pretend I’m someone less handsome.” Then, he started to squeeze.

Ceòl slammed his head backwards, barely missing Corvo’s chin as he anticipated the attack. Damn! Next, he tried driving the heel of his boot onto Corvo’s foot. It connected, but other than low grunt, Corvo kept his grip firm and began maneuvering Ceòl towards a nearby wall. Not wanting to get pinned, he wrapped his ankle around Corvo’s leg, forcing him to bend at the knee. But he only stumbled for a moment before righting himself and twisting free of Ceòl’s ankle hook.

He tried all the dirty tricks Corvo showed him, but failed every attempt. Corvo was simply too strong and too determined… like a genuine attacker would be. There were no points for effort here. In a real fight, it was do or die.

And then he was pinned flat against the wall, Corvo’s bulk unyielding against his back.

Ceòl’s cheek pressed against cold stone and his muscles burned. He writhed and bucked, but freedom slipped away again and again. A high pitched whine escaped his throat as his breathing came in short gasps.

Corvo released his hold. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking, I—”

Ceòl gulped a desperate breath and fought the urge to double over. He rubbed hs wrists furiously. He could almost feel the sting of the ropes.

“Corvo, I’m fine,” Ceòl snapped, still dizzy from panic. He took a few deep breaths and added, softer, “I want to learn.”

“We should work up to things like that slowly. Let’s focus on building your strength in the meantime. But for now…” Corvo whistled to call a stop to Emily’s defensive training. “Mayhew! You and me!”

Ceòl took a rest on the far side of the room and watched Corvo work. Corvo’s face hardened and Ceòl watched with fascination as his fighting style transformed from instructive to destructive. Unlike his patient guidance with Ceòl, Corvo didn’t pull any punches training his other apprentice.

Ceòl winced as fists met flesh. Emily and Cecelia whistled sharply through their teeth when Corvo cracked a blow against Alexi’s face.

But Alexi got her licks in too. She’d come a long way in the last few years. She dodged a kick, swung around with speed even Corvo couldn’t counter, and planted her knee in his stomach. Corvo doubled over and Ceòl half-rose from his seat before he saw the clenched left hand.

Rats poured out of the ground beneath Alexi’s feet!

Alexi leaped over the distractions nibbling on her boots and launched herself at Corvo. He disappeared before she made contact. Alexi sprinted towards him only to meet empty air again. And again.

Corvo materialized behind her but Alexi darted out of his grasp.

“You can protect Emily against the average thug,” Corvo said. “But what if someone like me came for her? What would you do?”

“She’d know that after summoning rats and three transversals in a row, you’ve exhausted your energy!” Ceòl called out.

Corvo only had a moment to look betrayed before he was dodging Aleix’s blows.

“Thanks for the tip!” she called.

Emily chuckled and the three of them watched the rest of the nonmagical sparring match.

Ceòl couldn’t take his eyes off of Corvo. It was easy to forget that the man was a living weapon when Corvo spent his evenings softly caressing his body, granting the kind of physical comfort Ceòl never experienced in his first life. But watching Corvo’s eyes change in combat, seeing his body move in a way few people ever saw and lived to tell about it, made a chill run up Ceòl’s spine.

Both of Corvo’s jobs put him in daily danger.

Ceòl was relieved when he’d convinced Corvo not to pursue the Ascended. That was a start. But Corvo could still be killed in any number of mundane ways that Ceòl would never see coming now.

His heart hammered behind his ribs as he remembered the flash of the future he’d seen in the Void—standing knee-deep in a grave, shovel in hand, grief etched into his young features. Who’s grave was that? He had an idea. There was only one person in this world he cared about enough to perform manual labor. 

It was only one possibility, Ceòl reminded himself. It wouldn’t come to pass. He’d make sure of it.

After a few moments, Cecelia spoke up. “Why did you give him rats as one of his powers?”

“I didn’t. The powers are a reflection of the user.”

“So Corvo chose plague rats?”

“Not knowingly. But the first time he was angry enough to summon a force of death and destruction into existence…” Ceòl waved his hand at the rodents still scurrying around the edges of the room. “If he’d gotten his powers in Karnaca during the summer, maybe it would have been blood flies instead. Who knows.”

Cecelia thumbed her chin. “So you really can’t predict what kinds of powers a person will develop or what they’ll do with them?”

Ceòl was quiet for a moment. “There’s quite a lot I can’t predict apparently.”

“But you still know more than any human,” Emily said.

Ceòl shrugged. “True.”

She bit her lip. “Do you think I’ll ever accomplish what I want? With the economy and the labor laws?”

Ceòl stilled. “I don’t know.”

“But you have some educated guesses.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

Ceòl looked to Corvo and Alexi, both breathing heavily as their sparring continued. “You might not like what I have to say, Empress Kaldwin.”

“Good.” Emily angled herself towards him on the crate and looked Ceòl in the eyes. “I want to hear an honest opinion from someone who’s not under my authority.”

“I am somewhat under your authority, being one of your subjects now.”

“You know what I mean. And I’m not some tyrant who can’t take criticism.”

Ceòl sighed. He knew what she hoped to accomplish in the coming decades. She’d meet a fair number of those goals, too. But once Emily Kaldwin passed from this world, all of that progress was going to fade from the world with her.

“To make lasting change,” Ceòl began slowly, “the system itself must be changed, not only the laws governing it.”

Emily furrowed her brow and seemed to consider that. “Like Tyvia?”

Ceòl chuckled. “That’s one way, but I assume you’ll want less violence in the process.”

“I know you’re going to be busy with spy-craft but if it’s not too much trouble…” Emily wrung her hands. “Can you help me? Maybe write a step-by-step guide or some broad ideas about what to do or not do going forward.” Her chin trembled. “Every day in Parliament is a minefield and it’s only a matter of time before one wrong step undoes everything I’m working towards. And it’s other people who’ll pay the price!”

“You want my advice on politics? Intelligence about voting blocks and noble family secrets?”

“More than that.” She reached for his shoulder and turned him to face her fully. “I want your advice on the big picture. On our whole society moving forward!”

Ceòl blinked. “That’s not something I can summarize over tea.”

He smiled softly as Corvo and Alexi called a draw to their heated duel of hands, and made their way over.

“Not over tea, but you’ll be here for a while.” Emily paused. “Won’t you?”

Corvo wrapped an arm around him and squeezed. “He will.”

Ceòl squeezed back. “I can share what I know about ‘the big picture’ in terms of social systems and human behavior. That’s the most useful foundation.”

“Yes!” Emily half shouted. “My tutors and advisers all talk about economics or business tactics or labor practices like they’re isolated systems. But it’s all connected. I want to see those connections. I want to have a plan going forward. I want…” She swallowed. “I want to plan for the next fifty years.”

Ceòl considered the enormity of what she was asking. And smiled. “Give me a few months to collect my thoughts, and I’ll have something for you.”

* * *

Corvo eased himself into bed with a sigh, skin still warm from the hot bath. He’d needed that soothing heat in his muscles tonight. His body wasn’t what it used to be and it ached after the spar with Alexi.

It pained him to be so tough on her when they trained, but she had to be prepared for anything if she was going to replace him. He knew Alexi would die for Emily, but if he trained her well enough it wouldn’t come to that.

He didn’t worry half as much about the training progress of his other apprentice— if anything Ceòl could be teaching him about the business of a spymaster— but Corvo worried about Ceòl for other reasons.

Sometimes Corvo caught him staring in the mirror, expression of horror and resignation on his pale features. Ceòl would reach a long-fingered hand to his face, touch the skin as if testing to see if it was real, and sigh.

Corvo couldn’t imagine what he was going through and had no idea how to help.

As if summoned by Corvo’s thoughts of him, Ceòl tapped lightly on the door that connected their rooms before entering. He wore a pair of loose-fitting sleeping pants and nothing else. His knuckles bore scrapes from the practice punches and two bruises had begun forming around his upper arms from their grappling. Corvo was reminded of the men he used to train with in the Grand Guard, and how they’d all hit the showers after a day of sparring in the heat, displaying bruises and cuts like hard-won prizes.

With consistent training, Ceòl’s build would transform as well. He’d probably never have the bulk of a soldier but Corvo could easily imagine him with muscular legs and shoulders broadened from sword training.

The mental image made his mouth water.

Corvo adjusted himself below the waist as Ceòl crawled under the covers with him. “You did well tonight.”

“No, I didn’t. But thank you for being patient with me.”

Corvo cupped Ceòl’s cheek and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Always.”

Corvo ran his fingers down Ceòl’s arms and smiled when Ceòl shivered beneath his touches. He kept his caresses affectionate, but not passionate. Even though Ceòl had been sharing his bed for weeks, they’d only made love a handful of times. Corvo didn’t mind. He was happy just to have Ceòl close, so he waited for Ceòl to initiate whatever intimacy he was comfortable with in the evenings.

The last time Ceòl was human he’d been hesitant about sex too. Between what Corvo knew of his past and the way he described human emotions as being too intense, it wasn’t surprising. Ceòl just needed some time. And Corvo would give him as much as he needed.

He ceased his caresses when Ceòl stopped reciprocating, and pulled his lover to his chest with a peck on the cheek.

Ceòl sighed, content.

Corvo usually fell asleep quickly, while Ceòl could lay awake for hours before his mind quieted enough to let him rest. Corvo hoped the physical exhaustion of the sparring would help Ceòl sleep tonight, but after thirty minutes he was still wide awake and staring at the ceiling.

“Something wrong?” Corvo asked.

“What is my stipend as your apprentice?” Ceòl paused. “This position does come with a stipend doesn’t it?”

“It’s not much, but yes. Why?”

“I’d like to buy some things, but I wasn’t sure if I had my own money.”

“I forgot to show you.” Corvo threw the sheet off his lap and hurried over to his personal desk in the corner. He returned to the bed with a small folder. “I opened an account for you and your first month’s wages have already been deposited. You can write checks on these slips, or withdraw funds at a teller. And—” Corvo paused, sheepish. “You already know how banking works.”

“I do.” He took the account book from Corvo’s hand and frowned.

“I told you the stipend was…”

“Not much.” Ceòl sighed. “It’s fine. I don’t have many expenses.”

Corvo rubbed his shoulder. “The last apprentice spymaster was Burrows, so the funding for the position hasn’t been adjusted in a long time. I could petition to increase—”

“No.” Ceòl held up his hand. “There’s already enough suspicion about me. Let’s not raise eyebrows.”

He was right. But still. “I can give you money. As much as you need.”

The salary for Royal Protector wasn’t as generous as most people assumed— the position came with room and board by necessity, so the accountants deducted those costs accordingly. Still, Corvo had pocketed that money for over thirty years. And ever since he’d taken over as Royal Spymaster, a position was that very well-compensated, his personal fortune had grown to be greater than Emily’s. And Ceòl surely knew that.

Ceòl laid back down. “I can wait to decorate my room.” He ran a finger along Corvo’s arm. “I spend every night with you anyway, so what my living area looks like doesn’t much matter.”

“You don’t have to stay with me every night,” Corvo whispered.

Ceòl’s face did something complicated.

“I mean, you aren’t _obligated_ to sleep in my bed,” he clarified.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get rid of me, Corvo.”

Corvo cupped Ceòl’s face in his hand. “Far from it. I just mean—”

“That I’m not obligated… to you.”

“Yes.” He kissed the tip of Ceòl’s nose. “I want to wake up to your face very morning.” Ceòl went still, but Corvo continued. “But if one morning you realize you’d rather be somewhere else…”

Corvo would die inside on that day. But Ceòl needed to know he wasn’t trapped here. He needed to know he had a choice.

“If you decide you want something other than this…” He swallowed. “Other than me, all you have to do is say so. Your life is your own.”

Ceòl hummed. “The armed guards who track my every step send something of a mixed message.”

Corvo groaned. “You really hate the guards?”

“I despise them.” He sighed. “But if it puts your anxious mind at ease, I’ll tolerate them _for now_.”

“Thank you.”

“But I won’t forever.”

“Once you’ve mastered the martial arts and become a legendary fighter, you won’t need them,” Corvo said with a grin.

Ceòl’s face fell. “I’ll never have a moment alone again.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm anxious and restless tonight... so here's the update 2 days early! (please point out any major typos/errors)

Ceòl flipped through the reports from Lady Brisby’s businesses. They came as a pleasant surprise. The spy at Brisby’s company office reported the purchase of new bedding for the servant quarters of all her properties, as well as new sanitation equipment for the staff at her hotels. She appeared to be complying with Emily’s regulations before the measure had even been proposed! 

He filed the reports into a confidential envelope and sealed it. Emily would be thrilled.

Ceòl remained skeptical. People like Brisby never spent that kind of coin out of the goodness of their hearts. She had to be up to something. They’d know more when the rest of Corvo’s spies reported in over the next few weeks.

He adjusted the pillow behind his back and tried to ignore the two ever-present guards stationed at the door of the small reading room. Corvo said he’d get used to them, but Ceòl itched under their gazes.

With the reports filed and summarized, Ceòl began work on his personal project for Emily. She wanted his advice about how to make successful and lasting reforms, so he prepared to outline what he knew.

Ceòl cracked his neck and began with Volume 1: A World History of Social Movements. This first book would describe anecdotes throughout history in which social movements succeeded in transforming a culture. He’d also examine social movements that failed. There were worthy lessons to be learned from each.

A cough at the door brought Ceòl out of his thoughts and he met the wary gaze of High Overseer Khulan.

Khulan’s face was hard as he spoke through his teeth. “May I join you?”

Ceòl waved a hand nonchalantly to the empty chair across the table. “Of course. If you’re here to see Corvo, he’s in a meeting. But he’s scheduled to join me once he’s free.”

“Actually, I’m here to see you.”

Ceòl’s pen paused in its path. “Oh?” He slid his eyes to the guards and back to Khulan. He whispered, “Is there going be a scene?”

“Not unless you make one.” Khulan turned to the men at the door. “Would you mind leaving us?”

The guards stiffened. “Um, High Overseer, sir…” the one on the right mumbled. That one was named Collins, if Ceòl remembered correctly. “We’re under orders not to leave for anyone but Lord Corvo, Her Highness, or Captain Mayhew.”

“Come now,” Ceòl said sweetly. “If you can’t trust the High Overseer himself, who in this world can you trust? I’m sure Corvo would have included him on the list if he’d expected a visit.”

The men whispered to one another for a few moments, then shrugged. “Well, alright. Since it’s the High Overseer. But we’ll be right outside.”

Once they were alone, a smug grin bloomed across Khulan’s face. “Corvo keeps you under guard. So much for trusting you.”

Ceòl slammed his pen down on the notepad. “On the contrary, it’s everyone else he doesn’t trust.” He collected himself and sat back. Snapping at the man wouldn’t win him over. “Corvo is afraid the cult will do me harm if they find out I still… exist. I don’t like the guards, but it makes him feel better.”

Khulan leaned back in his chair, silent and staring.

Since Khulan seemed content to stare, Ceòl returned to his work. He listed the social changes that both did and did not last in various cultures throughout history. He marked which ones had the most relevance to Gristol’s current path and made notes in the margin to himself about—

“Sister Rosewyn came to see me the other day,” Khulan said, not lifting his eyes from his folded hands on the table.

Ceòl reluctantly took the bait. “And what did she have to say?”

“Nothing important.” Khulan frowned. “Visions about crop yields mostly. Nothing about…”

“Me?”

“Not a word. Just like she swore. And I didn’t dare bring it up. We just acted like everything was fine.”

“Maybe everything _is_ fine,” Ceòl said softly.

When Khulan said nothing in reply, Ceòl returned to his outline. After filling a volume with relevant historical anecdotes, he’d compose Volume 2: Theories of Social Systems. This would provide a useful framework for Emily to analyze the previous book and relate those anecdotes to present-day Gristol. He kept this outline brief since much of the text would be dedicated to exposition. Ceòl listed the theories he wanted to discuss along with notes about which cultures he’d use to support or contradict each theory.

“Is Corvo serious about this ‘apprenticeship’ or is he goading me again? Testing how many heresies I’m willing to overlook?”

So much for progress. Ceòl stared across the table. “He offered me the position in earnest.”

More silence from Khulan. Corvo certainly wasn’t trying to test the High Overseer but the High Overseer was absolutely testing Ceòl’s patience.

Volume 3: Assessment the Empire of Isles. Each island had its own political system, despite technically being ruled by Gristol’s monarch. Serkonos has its Duke, akin to a monarch with with differing layers of authority. Tyvia’s revolution had ousted their old rulers in favor of a more “favorable system for the people”. But that revolution’s ideals and the system it ultimately created were in stark contrast. He’d be certain to highlight where things went sideways there.

As for Gristol and the changes Emily was making…

At present, the nobles were simply being cowed into compliance, and that approach would only work for so long. Ceòl worried that Emily was moving too quickly. A hard push was necessary to force a society stuck in its ways to change for the better. He didn’t fault her for that. But from the Void he’d seen countless social revolutions push too far too fast, and become undone as soon as the singular power behind the reforms was gone.

A more organic social movement had a better chance of lasting results. The common people were grateful for the changes Emily had made, but they needed to be empowered to make those changes themselves. And that kind of power was rarely enjoyed under a monarchy.

“I suppose ‘spymaster’ should come naturally to you. Lying. Deception. Honied words and knives in backs.”

“Is that what you think of Corvo?” Ceòl asked.

Khulan’s face pinched. “I didn’t use to.”

“And you don’t now,” Ceòl challenged. “Despite everything that’s happened, you still respect him.”

Khulan stared at his hands and didn’t reply.

Back to work then. Volume 4: The 50-year plan. This was the true purpose of the project. Emily wanted to know what to do going forward.

Ceòl nibbled on the top of the pen again, listening to the steady clacking sounds against his teeth. It was risky, proposing a plan to dismantle Gristol’s core political institution. A less-secure monarch might call his opinions treason. Luckily, Emily was not that kind of ruler, and Ceòl laid his opinions bare. A reasonable timeline could be half a century in the making, longer to account for the hurdles put into place by the elite. To make her vision real—

“Even good men can be blinded by loneliness and desire,” Khulan said softly, almost to himself. “Corvo is a good man who’s been blinded by your…”

Ceòl took a slow breath through his nose. “By my what?”

“He was lonely after Jessamine. Vulnerable. Everyone knows that.”

“And you think I pulled him into the Void and seduced him with my charming wit?” He batted his eyes.

Khulan scowled. “For all I know.”

“For what purpose? What’s my end game in this evil scheme?”

Khulan waved his arms wide. “Look around! He’s given you everything you asked for. Money! Power!”

“I didn’t ask for money or power, and I don’t have either of those things anyway! My only income is an apprentice’s stipend and I only have whatever power Corvo gives me. And _you_ have the power to end my apprenticeship. We agreed on that, didn’t we?”

Khulan thumbed at his chin. Thankfully he didn’t torture Ceòl with another ten minutes of sullen silence.

“What are you working on? Or is it classified?”

Ceòl supposed there was no harm in it. “It’s a personal project for Her Majesty. The contents might seem _scandalous_ , but nothing about it is classified.” He paused. “Except the identity of its author.”

“A guide on heretical rituals? An introduction to spirit summoning?”

Ceòl chuckled and slid the outline across the table. “Something far worse.”

He rose from the long table and moved to the window while Khulan perused his work, poured a glass of water from a pitcher, and waited.

Ceòl held the glass to the light and stared into the clear liquid. What kind of bacteria were swimming around inside, he wondered. Water-borne illness was still far too common in this era. Water purification hadn’t advanced as far as manufacturing in the isles’ industrial revolution.

If Khulan did veto his apprenticeship, Ceòl supposed he could always make money on patents. He had several devices in mind that would benefit the citizens of the Isles, and improve his personal health. He didn’t escape assassination by the Ascended just to die of dysentery in Dunwall.

Ceòl sighed and took a long drink.

“This is… not what I was expecting,” Khulan grumbled. He laid the pages out side-by-side to make one long document spanning the length of the table.

Ceòl watched quietly from the window as Khulan traced the lined pages with his fingertips. But when Khulan took a pen and began making his own notes in the margins, Ceòl marched back to the table.

“What are you writing?” He leaned forward, reading Khulan’s notes upside down.

“You don’t make a single mention of the Abbey and you call _this_ an analysis of the Isles’ political systems?” Khulan scoffed. “And your ‘Theories of Social Systems’ don’t mention any religious institutions at all.”

“I’m not finished yet!” He tried to snatch the pen from Khulan, but the High Overseer slapped his hand away.

“Clearly.” Khulan began adding an additional section to the outline! “All cultures develop a system of spiritual beliefs. You can’t ignore their impact.”

“Should you even be outlining that information? You’re hardly an objective source,” Ceòl hissed.

“And you are?” Khulan barked.

Ceòl snatched the pen from Khulan’s grip. “I’ve seen far more of humanity’s religious practices than you have.”

“But not everything. You were never omniscient.” Khulan snatched the pen back.

Ceòl paused, then lowered himself into his seat. “You talked to Corvo about me.”

Khulan scribbled some nonsense about the “unifying spiritual role” of religion across social classes before he answered.

“We had quite a long meeting the other day when you were reviewing reports. He gave me a history of your supposed origins. Your ‘innocence’ as a youth. Your sacrifice. Your ‘neutral’ motivations as a god.” He locked eyes with Ceòl. “He believes every word.”

“But naturally, you don’t.”

“Of course not!” he shouted. “Corvo said you never caused chaos for the sake of it, but I’ve seen otherwise.”

“What would you know about it?”

“Delilah,” Khulan spat. “ _Only_ chaos could have come from giving her such power!”

Ceòl’s voice was a growl. “You know nothing about Delilah.” He leaned forward with his elbows on the table. “She could have done good with her power. She could have created a new world with fairness and justice for all people. That is a rarer occurrence than you can possibly know, and I have waited four thousand years to see a society like that hold together for longer than a generation.”

He took a deep breath and pulled himself back. That disappointment was a sour memory. In the Void, where his feelings were spread out across forever, Delilah’s decisions had elicited little more than a tired sigh. But now that he was human again, emotions were sharp, pointed things. Ceòl had to remind himself not to linger on the pain of what he couldn’t change.

“She didn’t, obviously. But I hoped she might surprise me.”

Khulan’s face softened a bit. “If you didn’t want chaos, why take that chance? Why not give powers to people who’re _guaranteed_ do good with it?”

Ceòl didn’t intend to snicker. Honestly. “You’re sure such people exist?”

“At least one.”

Ceòl traced the polished surface of the table with his fingers. “I only gave my Mark to people who were at a crossroads and could go either way.”

Khulan furrowed his brows and seemed to become lost in thought. He mumbled, seemingly to himself. “All that power, given to him during a time of grief and vulnerability— the empire in upheaval, blood in the streets, Lady Emily in danger…”

A person didn’t need to be a god to see the dozens of dark paths a man like Corvo Attano could have walked with the help of supernatural gifts.

Khulan snapped out of his reverie with a curled upper lip. “You could have ruined him.”

Ceòl felt small under his disgusted gaze. “I know.”

Deep voices outside the door distracted from their bickering.

“— with the High Overseer, sir. He assured us it’d be—”

The doors burst open and a wide-eyed Corvo rushed into the room.

Ceòl waved to him innocently. “Corvo, we were just talking about you.”

Corvo took them both in and relaxed after a moment. He gently closed the doors and strode to the table, pulling up his own chair.

“Keeping it civil?” Corvo asked.

“Surprisingly so,” Khulan said. He pushed the outlines back over to Ceòl.

“Is this the project Emily asked you to work on?” Corvo thumbed through the papers and Ceòl watched as his face went from impressed, to concerned, to terrified. “You’re suggesting she do _what?_ ”

“Corvo, she asked me for an honest assessment of—”

“A 50-year plan towards restructuring Parliament and dismantling the—” He cut himself off and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Dismantling the monarchy? Are you insane?” Corvo’s hands clenched into tight fists in his lap. “Do you know what usually happens to _former_ monarchs? That you’d even suggest—”

“Corvo.” Khulan’s voice carried all the weight of a man of his position. “That part wouldn’t happen until much later in her life. She’d have ample time to prepare for a retirement. _If_ it even happened at all.”

“Indeed.” Ceòl straightened his cuffs, and nodded in thanks to Khulan. “No plan ever survives contact with reality.” He palmed the loose pages into a folder. “Don’t hang me for treason yet. Emily asked what would need to happen to achieve the society she’s envisioned and that society doesn’t exist under a monarchy. At least not the kind of monarchy you have now.”

Ceòl reached for Corvo’s hand under the table and continued. “She can only bully the aristocracy for so long. Eventually, they’ll fight back. And popular support won’t save her if the population has no political power.”

Silence hung heavy over the three of them until Corvo finally sighed. “I want her to be safe. Her power provides that safety.”

“Power can also make her a target,” Ceòl said.

Corvo’s glare made it clear he didn’t need to be reminded. But he still held Ceòl’s hand.

“For all I know, Emily will hate my suggestions and burn the entire plan once I’ve presented it to her.”

Corvo’s voice was barely more than a breath. “She _won’t_ hate it. That’s what terrifies me.”

* * *

Malchiodi climbed the rocks towards the chamber that held the Eye. He took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves as he approached it. Months had passed with no clear sign of what to do next. His colleagues were restless.

They needed a sign.

Ever since they’d purged the Void of the Outsider’s lingering energy, the visions the Ascended received from the Eye had been even more bizarre than usual. Typically they’d see pieces of history, either from their world or others. Sometimes they’d see glimpses of possible futures, ranging from the very likely to the near impossible. Even when they couldn’t fully understand what they saw, everyone walked away with some new insight from their visions.

The fragment of the dead god wasn’t conscious, of course. It had no agency or will. But, like a creature that twitched for a time after its death, it still had pulses of energy that flowed through it— echoes of the essence that used to give it life. And when they communed with it, the Ascended tapped into a small piece of what it was.

And it was pure understanding.

Mathematics. Art. Physics. Music. It echoed with millennia of knowledge.

The Eye had shown them the knife cast from the Void, and the void-touched assassin chasing after it. Even the device that had successfully held the assassin for so long had only become reality after Annette communed with the Eye and discovered some new equations having to do with harmonics.

But now…

The sluggish decay of the Void remained steady, so killing the spirit hadn’t made the deterioration any worse. Of that, their mathematicians were certain. And yet, ever since the spirit dissipated into the great nothing, their visions had been even more incomprehensible than normal.

The last time Malchiodi communed with the Eye, he saw nothing but swirling darkness. And he wasn’t the only one! Others reported the same vision dominating their sessions. But the most disturbing thing wasn’t the new vision, it was the overwhelming _feeling_ that came with it.

Connecting to the Eye had never been an emotional experience. Quite the opposite. Emotions became hollow and dull, their sense of wonder and awe only emerging as they came back to themselves in the corporeal world. But now their visions left them trembling and close to tears.

It was almost as if the Void was… lonely. Of course, the truth was far more complicated than that, Malchiodi was sure. Whatever they felt was a poor translation of the Void’s reality. Still, this change had some of his fellow Ascended worried they’d made the wrong choice.

He hoped today’s visions would provide answers.

Malchiodi stood before the enormous stone eye lodged within the interior of he mountain. He exhaled slowly, reached out with his hand, and opened his mind.

The world shifted around him and Malchiodi was able to see through the seams that stitched their reality together. That part was always a rush. But he couldn’t linger. He focused his mind, even as it expanded outwards and stretched thin. He couldn’t control where the Eye would take him, but he could focus on what he hoped to see and use it as a sort of filter. As images, sounds, and intangible concepts whipped by, his mind searched for something specific.

_“Show me a person,”_ he thought. _“Someone special. Someone worthy.”_

The darkness swirled at the center of his consciousness, as usual. But Malchiodi caught fragments of visions orbiting alongside him in the vortex. He ignored the wonders of the universe— birth of stars, death of galaxies, the loop connecting the infinitesimally small to the cosmically large — and focused on faces. Human faces.

There weren’t many to see, and most were familiar. He often saw his fellow Ascended here, echoes of their minds left behind from previous visits. But then…

He felt her. An individual with great power. And yet, she restrained that power constantly. The world was hers for the taking, but she sat in the shadows to watch it instead. Her face was shrouded by a hood as she walked the streets during the Fugue Feast without fear. Eyes slipped over her even as people moved to let her pass. It was like watching the Outsider walk among men.

She turned towards a street lamp and for a brief instant… There! He glimpsed her face!

Malchiodi tried his best to focus. He needed to observe this person with _human_ eyes. To the Void, everyone has their own unique signature— a _soul_ some sentimental types might call it. Yet physically, people all looked the same through its perceptions.

He couldn’t describe her ‘essence’ to a black bag team, so he pulled himself tight, fought the infinite tides of the Void, and stared at the woman with human eyes.

It only lasted a moment before he snapped back to reality.

Malchiodi collapsed to his knees and doubled over. The sudden transition from _something more_ back to human was a difficult one, and he didn’t ease himself back slowly like usual.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and heard people murmuring.

“What happened?” Annette snapped. “Tell me you weren’t stupid enough to come back all at once.”

Malchiodi shot her a glare over his shoulder. “I had to see with human eyes, if only for an instant.”

“Idiot!” Yuri shouted. “You could have come back to us brain dead!”

Antero brought him some water. “What did you see?”

“A face.” He waved frantically to the side table. “I need paper and pencil now!”

Antero fetched the supplies and Malchiodi didn’t even bother to pull himself off the ground. He pressed the paper against the floor of the cave and began frantically drawing. With every passing moment, her features faded from his memory.

He sketched out her basic features first— prominent bow of the upper lip, square jaw, eyes downturned at the corners. Then he moved onto the smaller distinctions. He remembered laugh lines around her mouth, beauty marks on her right cheek, right nostril and left side of her chin. Eyes, blue-green. Hair, red. Age, mid-thirties.

When the image was complete, Malchiodi stared into the two-dimensional face he’d recreated from the vision. In all his years, he’d never drawn with such accuracy before. Coming straight out of a vision was dangerous but obviously it had some benefits.

He held the image up for the group.

“Who is it?” Antero asked.

Malchiodi grinned wide. “The new Outsider.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve linked to it before, but I have some [head canons ](https://soontobecyborg.tumblr.com/post/153835551458/more-head-canons-low-chaos-corvos-dark-side-and)about the Outsider and his fascination with Corvo.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update??? You betcha.

Cecelia tried not to growl as Ceòl fidgeted in his chair. He’d been squirming for half an hour and showed no signs of stopping. 

They sat at a corner table in the library while reviewing some reports for Corvo, sifting through what was useful and what wasn’t. Ceòl’s bodyguards stood at attention near the door, eyes locked onto their ward as always. And apparently, he was uncomfortable being the subject of their focus.

Ceòl pulled one leg underneath him on the chair, then switched to the other leg. Then back.

“Will you stop that?” Cecelia finally whispered.

Ceòl’s shoulders sagged. “I can’t help it. They’re always watching and makes me nervous.” Cecelia opened her mouth to make a quip but Ceòl held up hand for silence. “No jokes about the how the tables have turned, please.”

Cecelia chuckled into her fist and pretended to cough. “Fine.”

She returned her focus to the papers, even as Ceòl continued to vibrate in his seat.

Reports from Lord Estermont’s factories were interesting. He’d ordered better safety goggles, thicker gloves, and over 2000 pairs of steel-toed boots in a variety of sizes. The boots were high-quality, made from a stiffer material than what Emily’s proposal would require. Why would he go above and beyond like that?

Clack. Clack. Ceòl tapped his pen on the corner of the table.

Cecelia shook her head and refocused. This didn’t make sense. Estermont was spending money on more expensive boots than he needed, _before_ the new workplace safety law even passed in Parliament. What was he playing at?

She thought about Lady Emily’s time at that awful factory, and her time watching Emily’s back from the shadows. Every Friday Lady Emily would receive her paycheck and frown, the hours she worked and the wages she earned never quite adding up. Estermont’s accountants had dozens of ways to deduct his workers pay and Cecelia suspected she’d just caught him using a new one.

She made a note in her reports for the DoL auditors to check Estermont Co. employee pay stubs from the periods before and after the issuing of this new equipment. Estermont was probably planning to recoup the costs of the new safety equipment by deducting it from his people’s wages. Emily’s proposal included language that specifically forbade that practice, and Estermont knew it. But if he made his employees pay for their new safety equipment before that shady tactic became illegal, he’d be out no money and in full compliance with the laws once they passed later this year!

Clack. Clack. Clack. Ceòl tapped his pen faster and faster. A loud crack echoed in the small study alcove and Ceòl hissed. He’d smacked his pen in half, and ink dribbled to the floor!

“Sorry,” he whispered, and gathered some blank pages to soak it up.

This was ridiculous. Cecelia slipped a note across the table: _do you want to ditch your guards?_

Ceòl read the note and replied: _and go where?_

Cecelia grinned. _Follow my lead._

She gathered their papers and bundled them into a folder that Ceòl then sealed with wax to prevent tampering. The guards tailed them at a respectable distance as the pair headed towards Corvo’s office.

Cecelia used her key to unlock the drop box in the wall, and deposited the sealed folder inside. She pulled the lever and heard the box spin inside the wall, and drop the reports into Corvo’s locked office. Then she checked the lock and continued down the hall.

As soon as they rounded the corner, Cecelia grabbed Ceòl’s hand and shoved him flush against the wall. She held a finger to her lips and focused.

The world went crisp and grey as she radiated calm. Her eyes softened and Cecelia blinked slowly as the guards rounded the corner. The poor men yelped when they saw no one there.

“Lord Corvo’s gonna kill us,” one of them whispered. The guards took off towards the nearest exit.

Once they were out of sight, Cecelia turned to Ceòl. “Careful not to distract me too much,” she warned, and waved him down the hall.

He followed at her heels as she led him out of the Tower, through the courtyard, past the security gates, and onto Barrowe Street.

Cecelia didn’t say a word as they walked down the center of the thoroughfare. Normally, she stuck to the side of the road but she wanted Ceòl to feel the way people’s eyes slid past them. It was obvious he missed that kind of thing. Pedestrians and people with carts moved out of their way without knowing why, and she watched a small smile creep over Ceòl’s face.

The market was packed this time of day, but the shuffling masses parted for them. She led Ceòl to a bench in a nice patch of sunlight and sat cross-legged while Ceòl pulled his knees to his chest.

They sat in companionable silence for several minutes and simply watched the crowd.

A man selling jewelry helped a young woman try on a necklace, and used that as an opportunity to glance down her blouse.

At a nearby food stall, a young boy snatched a skewer of roasted fish while the cook had his back turned. He took the food behind a dumpster and fed the entire fillet to a skinny cat.

An old woman hobbled through the courtyard, grocery bag in one hand and cane gripped tightly in the other. A burly sailor offered to help carry her burden.

Cecelia wondered if that man’s kindness was genuine, or an excuse to get into her home and rob her. She put the odds at 50/50. Going unseen by people had allowed Cecelia to witness incredible acts of kindness and cruelty.

“How long can you conceal us?” Ceòl asked.

“Assuming no big distractions, I could do this for hours.”

His shoulders relaxed and Ceòl released a long breath. “Thank you. This is exactly what I needed.”

“I know it’s not the same as what you’re feeling, but sometimes when I go on long missions, I get so used to walking through crowds and observing people, that when it’s over I need time to adjust to being… seen.”

Ceòl sighed. “It isn’t only that I don’t like being watched. I’m uncomfortable all the time.” His voice was barely above a whisper and he added, “Being human hurts in a way that’s hard to describe.”

Cecelia’s face fell. “You’re in pain?”

“Not physically.” He picked at some dried mud on the side of his shoe, and flicked it away. “Imagine you had the ability to walk and run, jump and swim. To move your body about in whichever way you pleased.”

“I… do.”

“Exactly. Now imagine you were shoved into a cage so small that you had to fold in on yourself to fit inside, and once you’re in position there’s no room to move.” His chin trembled. “And there you sit, balled up and unable to stretch your limbs, muscles screaming to expand. But you’re immobilized. Forever.”

Cecelia’s eyes widened. “Is that what being human feels like?”

“Mentally.” He sighed. “Being a god wasn’t necessarily pleasant, but my mind was vast— seeing and hearing and knowing so much. And now…”

Cecelia placed her hand gently on his back, and felt him relax under her touch.

He rested his forehead on top of his knees and huffed. “It’s disgusting how ungrateful I sound. I could be dead right now. Or homeless. Or forced into unpleasant work. Instead, I have a good job. I live in a _palace_.” Softer, he said, “I have someone I care about, who would do anything for me.” He leaned his head back. “I’ll get used to this in time.”

“Have you told Corvo any of this?”

Ceòl clucked his tongue. “He’d find some way to blame himself for something that isn’t his fault and can’t be changed. So, no.”

“Corvo’s worried about you. He’s thinks you’re not happy.”

“I’m not happy, but that isn’t his fault.”

Suddenly, Cecelia hunched over, as if the breath had been punched out her. She felt her focus buckle around her. “Something’s wrong.”

“Are you tired? Should we go?”

“No. Something’s weakening my… field. Or whatever.” Cecelia groaned at how silly she sounded. She really should have created some consistent terminology for her powers by now, but she rarely gave it much thought. It was like breathing.

She looked around the large open space. Vendors shouted to customers. Customers avoided eye contact with rubbish peddlers. People scanned the crowd looking for friends. And… there!

At the exact center of the market, a broad-shouldered man with a neck tattoo spun in a slow circle. His eyes swept over the crowd as if he were looking for someone. Every time his gaze passed their way, Cecelia felt her focus weaken.

“It’s that guy. He’s looking for someone very intensely.” She unfolded her legs and placed her feet flat on the cobblestones. “And since it feels like getting jabbed in the gut every time he looks this way, he must be looking for one of us.”

Ceòl went stiff beside her. “I know that tattoo. It’s given to members of the Eyeless.”

The gang from Karnaca? She’d read Corvo’s reports on them since he’d been looking for leads on the Ascended. But why would the Eyeless be in Dunwall? Unless…

“Ceòl, are the Eyeless connected to the cult that tried to kill you?”

“Yes.” He swallowed. “Maybe Corvo wasn’t overreacting with the body guards.”

Cecelia clenched her fists. That intelligence would have been useful months ago! Why had he kept it from Corvo? Probably to protect him, she realized. Honestly, those two were the same kind of stubborn. But she could yell at Ceòl later.

“How’d they find you?” she hissed.

“I don’t know,” he whispered back. “Maybe the Ascended saw me in a vision? Although the chances of that are as unlikely as…”

Cecelia scowled. “As everything else that’s happened to you already?”

“Good point.”

Cecelia kept her focus steady, despite the extra effort. She’d had years of practice now and wasn’t going to fumble that easily.She could remain unseen while someone searched for her— she managed it with Corvo in Karnaca, after all! But she’d also passed out afterwards, and Ceòl wouldn’t be able to carry her to safety as easily as Corvo had that night. She needed to make a decision about what to do next.

She couldn’t leave Ceòl unprotected now, that much was certain. They had to tell Corvo about the Eyeless immediately. But, they could also follow this man to see where he went after he gave up on searching the market.

As she tried to decide between running and gathering intelligence, the man stopped spinning. He looked right at them.

Cecelia could hear Ceòl taking quick gasps of air as he started to panic. “Take it easy,” she whispered. “The more you panic the harder this is for me. He’s can’t see us. There’s no way he sees us.”

“Maybe not,” Ceòl said. “But I think he just noticed this bench is mysteriously vacant on one of the busiest market days of the month.”

Well shit. There was that.

The man couldn’t see who was there, but he could see who wasn’t. He made a beeline for the bench.

“Ceòl, when I give the signal, we stand up and walk slowly toward the left. The crowd is thinner that way, and our movements won’t be as obvious. We’ll circle the market and get to the north exit. It’s a long walk back to the Tower from that direction, but I can hold out. But you need to stay close and calm. Got it?”

Ceòl nodded.

“Alright. On three.” They slowly rose to their feet. She raised a finger to start the count.

One.

The man reached into his jacket.

Two.

He pulled out a weapon and aimed uncertainly at what appeared to be empty space.

Thr—

A large dart burst from the barrel, and hit Ceòl in the chest! Electricity arced outward and zapped Cecelia.

She lost her focus.

The man looked her right in the eyes. He grinned and reloaded.

Cecelia froze. She couldn’t leave Ceòl to be taken by this man. But if she was killed or captured, there’d be no one to tell Corvo what happened.

Ceòl looked up at her, and through gritted teeth he managed to croak out the word, “run.”

* * *

Steam rose in thin wisps from the surface of the tea cup. Billie felt the warmth bleed through the ceramic, holding it tight even as soothing heat turned to scalding against her palm. She lifted the cup to her pursed lips, then lowered it again. She kept her face passive and waited.

The Eyeless members who’d been assigned this kidnapping job putted around the cargo hold of the Cowed Hangman sipping tea as they waited for the go-ahead.

“Alright everybody listen up!” Hector shouted. “I know we’ve been over it before, but just so none of you thick-skulled hagfish forget anything…”

The group groaned and threw balled-up paper at Hector as he marched to the planning board.

“According to our bosses, the target will be in a crowded area around midday. Most likely place is the market. But I’m also assigning teams to the docks, the shopping district, and the rail station hubs. We’ll be spread thin today, so remember what to… look… for…”

Hector stifled a yawn and swayed on his feet. “Sorry. Um, like I was saying.” He circled the areas on the maps where they’d all be assigned. “Look for people moving in odd patterns, empty spaces in a crowd where people should be packed. You… won’t see see it at first.”

He yawned again and his eyes drooped. “Be careful in Hatter territory. They shoot on sight. And…” Hector’s legs started to shake.

Billie put down her tea cup, the liquid inside untouched. Hector caught himself on the edge of crate before he fell to the floor. The rest of the gang was out cold as well, having passed out during the briefing.

It was amateurish to try the same trick twice, but Billie didn’t have many options. She’d been hoarding her prescriptions of poppy tincture, only taking her doses when the pain became too much, and keeping the rest “just in case.”

The last time she slipped something into the Eyeless’ drinks, they all woke up from their drug-induced naps unharmed. Billie pulled a knife from her belt and sighed. She couldn’t afford to let them live this time.

Billie knelt over Hector’s unconscious body. She flipped him gently onto his back and placed the knife against the side of his throat. She angled herself behind where the spray would be, held his head still with her foot, and pulled in a clean, even slice.

Blood pulsed onto the floor. His heart was slowed from the poppies so there wasn’t a violent spray like when she did this in a fight.

This was going to be a nightmare to clean up, especially alone and one-handed. Billie almost regretted leaving Daud back in Karnaca with Hypatia. But there was nowhere to hide him on the Wale— registered as the Cowed Hangman, now— and she wanted to keep him as far away from his former captors as possible.

“You’ll be safe here,” she’d assured him. “Hypatia is a friend.”

“A friend who doesn’t know your real name,” Daud grumbled. “Just hurry back. I don’t wanna stay here too long.”

“Afraid of doctors, old man?”

“Not usually, but there’s something off about this woman.” He gulped. “She’s sweet, but I get the feeling she could kick my ass.”

Billie grinned. “Try not to piss her off then.”

She shook her head at the memory. Daud was safer at Hypatia’s clinic than anywhere in Karnaca, especially since he’d developed those tremors in his hand. And trouble breathing at night. If nothing else, she hoped Hypatia could help him gain some weight. Daud looked like death the way his clothes hung off of him.

One by one, Billie quietly took her knife to the throats of the Eyeless’ grab team. Most were slumped over the tables they’d been gathered around, making the one-handed slice an awkward feat. Others had slouched back against the hull and slid to the floor, which made it possible for her to stabilize their heads with her foot, like she’d just done to Hector.

Pools of blood stained the inside of the Cowed Hangman and Billie fought back tears. Here she was killing all over again. But this time it was to protect someone, not for coin.

Nearly finished, Billie moved to the last member of the team. An old brawler named Jacob slouched on the sofa around the other side of the crates. She grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head back, exposing his throat. His head was limp and rested against the back of the sofa when she released her grip and took hold of her knife. She lifted the blade…

“Rah!” Jacob launched to his feet! He pressed the barrel of a gun into Billie’s chest before she could react.

The shot echoed off the hull and Billie fell back gasping for breath. Shit! He wasn’t knocked out!

She covered the bullet hole with her hand, fingers clamping down tightly over the area. Stupid! She was so certain everyone drank the tea but apparently Jacob wasn’t a fan.

Jacob stood over her and smirked. “Guess I’ll get all the credit and all the shares for the job. Thanks, Foster.”

Billie’s eye fluttered shut. She heard the jingling of keys and Jacob’s boots on the metal stairs.

Once it was quiet, she risked opening her eye.

Amateur. Always make sure the job’s finished before you walk away. She ripped open her ruined leather jacket and pulled the slug free from the heavy vest she wore underneath— a gift from Anton before he retired to Tyvia. It was made from some new fiber he’d designed that’d stop a slug from penetrating the flesh, but it still hurt like shit. She felt like around her ribs and hissed. Not broken.

She cast a glance towards the planning board and took another look at the “target.” How they’d gotten a drawing of Cecelia she didn’t know, but Billie was here to stop them from taking her.

She heard a splash in the water and the engine of the skiff sputtered to life outside.

“No!” Billie grabbed her gear and prepared to follow.

The stairs were a blur beneath her feet and she emerged on deck just in time to see Jacob’s wake as he headed towards the docks. Billie stomped and cursed. If they’d docked the Cowed Hangman she could have pursued him on foot, but the plan was to stay anchored past the bulk of the patrol boats for a quick getaway. Swimming with one arm was something she still needed to practice, and doing it with boots and heavy gear was dangerous. She couldn’t help Cecelia if she drowned in the Wrenhaven.

Billie groaned and bolted up the stairs to the bridge.

Navigating Dunwall’s heavy boat traffic was trickier now that she had a much narrower field of vision and shitty depth perception, and Billie was forced to take the ship in slowly. Each minute she spent making her way to the docks was time Jacob had to look for Cecelia. Billie hurried to find a berth, and once she did, to pay the harbor master’s exorbitant dock fees while men secured her ship to the bollards.

There’d be no quick escape now, for Jacob or for her.

Billie broke into a run as soon as her feet hit solid ground. Jacob had a nearly twenty minute head start, but he also didn’t know the city and had left the maps behind when he ran. If she was lucky, he’d take some time finding the central market. And if she was luckier still, Cecelia wasn’t even there.

Her lungs burned as she sprinted through the crowded city streets. Since when had she ever had that kind of luck?

Billie skidded into the market through the south gate just in time to have her pessimism confirmed. An arc of electricity lit up a corner bench, and two people dropped into sight. One of them was Cecelia.

People in the market scattered and called for guards.

While Jacob reloaded his stun gun, Billie slowed to a quick walk. That idiot had no backup! How was he planning to get back to the skiff with a woman slung over his shoulder anyway? She cracked her neck and readied the knife. Could be that seeing all of his friends killed had him not thinking clearly.

Cecelia crouched over the young man who’d taken the first dart.

“Run,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“No need.” Billie didn’t falter as she slipped behind Jacob. She kicked the back of his knee and as he dropped, used the momentum to drive her knife through the back of his neck.

His body crumpled to the side like a puppet with cut strings.

Billie hissed at the pain that shot up her arm. Doing that move one-handed wasn’t easy for someone with her frame. She was used to holding the knife with her right and steadying the mark with her left, driving them towards the blade. But it didn’t matter now. It worked.

“Freeze!” “Hold it right there!” “Drop your weapon!”

City Watch guards converged on the market— that was fast— and Billie raised her arm above her head. Her blade clattered to the ground. She didn’t struggle when a guard pushed to her knees and large hands roamed her body, searching for other weapons.

“Wait!” Cecelia recovered from the shock and got to her feet, hauling the young man with her. “It’s alright. She saved us! That man attacked us. And she—” Cecelia paused. “She’s not the enemy here.”

“Is that so?” the guard hummed. Then he stiffened. “You,” he said, jabbing a finger at the young man next to Cecelia, “slipped your security detail. Collins is shitting his pants right now. You know that?”

The young man placed a hand against his chest in gesture of apology. “I’m sorry for the lack of warning. And you can tell Collins I’ll reimburse him for the pants.” He paused as the guard snickered. “But there was official business that came up suddenly.”

Cecelia nodded. “We had to meet a source and they wouldn’t show themselves if there were guards. We only had a short window to make contact and…”

Billie winced as the guard’s thick fingers dug into her shoulder. “I take it she’s your source?”

Billie played along. “Yeah, so much for secrecy.”

“Well, Lord Corvo really is throwing his new apprentice into the deep end, eh?” The young man nodded. Then the guard waved to Cecelia. “But this isn’t the sort of thing an _assistant_ is usually tasked with.”

“True. But, she knows me.” Cecelia motioned to Billie. “And she refused to meet if I wasn’t here.”

Billie tried to keep from grinning. Cecelia had become really good at bullshitting on the fly!

The young man, Corvo’s apprentice apparently, cleared his throat. “Sergeant, if this incident could stay quiet, I would apprec—”

“Oh no,” the guard said, low and serious. “I have a dead body in the market and a few hundred witnesses. I can fudge the details of motive in my reports _if_ Lord Corvo confirms this was official spy business. But that’s the best I can do.”

The apprentice nodded. “I understand.”

The guards let Billie back up to her feet and she took a look around at the mayhem. Bystanders in the market were being pushed behind some makeshift barricades while the guards collected Jacob’s body.

The apprentice waved them over to a nearby wall. Once they had a little privacy, it was Cecelia who spoke first.

“Meagan! How did you…” Cecelia did a double take. “And Void! What happened to you?”

Billie ran her tongue along her teeth. Returning to Dunwall was never part of the plan. But when Jeanette Lee showed the gang a hand-drawn portrait of Cecelia and asked for volunteers for a kidnapping, Billie’s hand shot up before she had a chance to wonder how this might backfire. And now, she had to decide how much to reveal.

“You’re in danger.”

The young man wrapped his arms around himself. “I’d gathered that. But how did they find me?”

Billie paused. “You think he was after _you_?”

“Wasn’t he?” The apprentice looked to the corpse being loaded onto a gurney. “If he wasn’t looking me, then who…”

“He was after Cecelia,” Billie whispered. She turned to her friend. “They have a drawing of you and know about your strange ability. We got word on where you’d be today and how to find you.”

“How?” Cecelia hissed. “And who wants me?”

“I don’t know how they got the information but…” Billie ran a hand through her hair. “Long story short, there’s a gang in Karnaca. The Eyeless. They’re into some weird occult stuff. Their initiations are pretty brutal, too.” She waved to her face for effect. “They’re hurting a lot of people, so I’m infiltrating them. A few weeks ago, word came down we had a kidnapping job. I usually sit those out, but when I saw who the target was…”

“It was me?” Cecelia looked to the young man beside her. “What do they want with me, Ceòl?”

Ceòl? What kind of name was that?

“I’m not sure. Unless…” He paled.

Some realization Billie wasn’t privy to passed over Cecelia’s face. “No. Just… no.” Cecelia turned to Billie. “Did they say why they wanted me? And how did they even know I’d be here?”

Billie kept her voice low. “Didn’t say why. As for how…” She shrugged. “A few weeks ago, information came from some ‘source’ the Eyeless leaders have. They had a drawing of you. They knew how you can go unnoticed and that you’d be in a public crowd in Dunwall this afternoon. That’s all the information we got, but it was obviously enough. There might be a mole in the Tower reporting on your daily routine or—”

Cecelia cut her off. “Going to the market this time of day _isn’t_ part of my routine. Ceòl and I are supposed to still be in the library reviewing reports for Corvo. So how’d this source know _weeks_ in advance that I’d make a last minute decision to go to the market today?”

Billie felt a chill creep up the back of her neck. That was good question. The Eyeless were into deeper magic than she realized if they were seeing the future.

Of course, there was another odd question to be answered. Billie stepped forward into Ceòl’s space.

“So how do _you_ know about the Eyeless?” He wore a high-collared shirt and Billie wondered if there might be a familiar tattoo on his pale skin. He seemed to read her mind.

“I’m not one of them.” He lifted his chin, indignant. “And I’d never met one in person before today. But I do know about them. I am the Royal Spymaster’s apprentice, after all.”

“We should meet with Corvo,” Cecelia said. “We’ll tell him what happened and—”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Billie hung her head. “I’m not sure if Corvo wants to see me.” She swallowed. “After Delilah, I cut out suddenly. And…”

“I know.” Cecelia shoved her hands in her pockets and made prolonged eye contact. “I _know_ , Billie Lurk.”

Billie jolted. “He told you.”

“I’m more than just Corvo’s assistant. He read me in on a lot of things, including why you disappeared.”

Billie gulped. “And your orders about what to do if you find me?”

“Do not approach. Report to Corvo.” Cecelia rocked back on her heels. “River patrol has the same order. He has an alert out for the Wale, local traffic only. So if you sailed in on your ship, he’s already aware.”

“The old girl’s docked nearby, but I’m not an idiot. I’ve got new paint and forged documents. Thanks for the heads up, though.”

“Meag— Billie.” Cecelia whispered, “He could have hunted you down. But he hasn’t. Those orders are just for the sake of keeping tabs. No one’s going to shoot you.”

Billie scratched her chin. Maybe not, but someone in Dunwall Tower certainly sent the cavalry after Daud. And if they suspected she was harboring him…

Ceòl cleared his throat. “Odd, that the Eyeless sent one man to kidnap a woman in broad daylight.”

Billie rolled her eye. “Obviously, they sent a team. I did what I had to do to keep them from coming ashore, but Jacob didn’t like my poppy tea.”

Ceòl narrowed his eyes. “And _why_ exactly did you decide to go undercover with a notoriously ruthless gang, Ms. Lurk? Out of the goodness of your heart?”

“I may’ve run from my past, but I vowed to do something positive with my life going forward. And once they did this to me…” She waved to her injuries. “Can’t let it be for nothing, right?”

Ceòl crossed his arms, unimpressed with her obvious lie. But Billie wasn’t here to convince him.

“This gang knows things, kid. Things that they have no way of knowing. They’re dangerous and I’m trying to stop them. That’s it.”

Cecelia stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright Ceòl. I trust her.”

After a moment he smiled. “So do I.”

Billie snorted. What would he know? Void help the empire if this brat was going to be the new spymaster one day.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a talking/planning chapter before our protagonists head to Karnaca. Look for two more updates this week as things really get cooking!

The reports on Corvo’s desk lay in an unread heap while he stared blankly at the far wall. Ceòl and Cecelia had been missing for nearly two hours. Ceòl’s personal guards scoured the Tower grounds and surrounding neighborhoods in a frenzy, worried something nefarious had happened. But based on the guards’ description of the mysterious disappearance, Corvo knew Ceòl wasn’t in danger. He hadn’t been taken. 

Ceòl left.

Corvo held his head in his hands. This was his fault. Ceòl asked repeatedly to have the security detail lifted. In all his time at the Tower, that was the _only_ thing he’d asked for!

It occurred to him that Ceòl never asked to live in Dunwall Tower, did he? He didn’t ask to be an apprentice either. He came to Corvo, penniless and alone, seeking help. But, Corvo now asked himself, was “help” what he provided? Corvo foisted accommodations and new clothes on Ceòl. Then an apprenticeship. And personal guards. All to keep Ceòl provided for and safe by his side.

Dependent on him. For all his talk of Ceòl not being obligated to him, Corvo’s actions had said otherwise. He kicked himself for that.

Ceòl was over four thousand years old! He didn’t need a stipend and an apprenticeship! He could invent machines no one had ever dreamed of! Or revolutionize human understanding of mathematics!

No matter what path he chose, Ceòl was going to have an exceptional life. Corvo was just an old man, clinging to his second chance at love so tightly that it slipped through his fingers.

His ears perked at the sound of a key sliding into the lock on his office doors! Corvo shot to his feet.

Ceòl entered with a sheepish wave. “I’m sorry about slipping the guards. But there’s something you—”

Corvo pulled him close and cut him off with a kiss. He kept it short and soft. His heart soared when Ceòl gripped the lapel of his vest and kissed back.

When they parted, Corvo whispered his apology against Ceòl’s lips. “I’m sorry.”

Ceòl cocked his head, as if unsure why Corvo were apologizing.

“You asked for my help, but all I did was shackle you to my side.”

Ceòl’s eyes went wide. “You thought I left?”

“You didn’t?”

He sighed. “I have been shackled, either literally or metaphorically, my entire existence. Until now.” A fond smile crept across Ceòl ’s face. “This is the freest I have ever been.”

Some of the worry lifted from Corvo’s shoulders. But he had to be sure. “No more guards. It was an overreaction and it’s making you miserable.”

Ceòl pulled back with a hum. “Thank you. But apparently you were right to worry.” He motioned towards the door. Cecelia dropped into his vision along with…

“Billie Lurk.” Corvo growled the name. Just because he’d chosen not to pursue her after learning the truth didn’t mean he forgave her role in Jessamine’s death. But his anger evaporated when Cecelia stepped away and he saw Billie completely.

Her arm! Her eye! It was just like before he changed the events at Stilton’s manor! He shot a panicked glance to Ceòl.

Ceòl smoothed his hands over Corvo’s chest. “Ms. Lurk just saved Cecelia’s life.”

Corvo relaxed under the touch and looked to Billie. “Explain.”

* * *

So the Eyeless _were_ involved with all of this! 

Corvo stroked the underside of his chin and glanced at Cecelia. She huddled over by the fire, lost in thought and unusually quiet.

“How do the Eyeless know about Cecelia’s power? And _why_ do they want her?”

“They didn’t say.” Billie shifted uncomfortably in her chair across from Corvo’s desk. “All I know is Lee came down from her office with a drawing of Cecelia, and orders to bring her back to Karnaca. But your apprentice seemed to think _he_ was the target for some reason.”

Ceòl hesitated to answer, so Corvo replied, “He used to be a… captive of a cult operating outside Karnaca.”

Billie gasped. “Were they called the Ascended?”

Ceòl straightened in his seat. “How do _you_ know about them?”

“I overheard someone mention the Ascended once, but never got any details.” Billie gave Ceòl an appraising glance. “So who are they?”

“Like the Eyeless, the Ascended are obsessed with the Void.” Ceòl stared at his shoes. “They recruit people from a wide variety of social groups and fields of interest, but they all have one thing in common: total dedication. In joining the cult, they give up their entire material lives so they can focus on studying the great mysteries.

“Why did they have you captive?” Billie asked.

Ceòl bit his lip and replied, “They were studying me.”

Corvo supposed that was technically true.

“I faked my death to escape and made my way to Dunwall, where I contacted Cecelia.” He wrung his hands. “And now they’re trying to capture her.”

“Do you think they’re looking for you?” Corvo’s stomach dropped. “Or for someone to replace you?”

“I’m no use to them anymore.” Ceòl cast a wide-eyed glance to Cecelia. “The latter seems more likely.”

“Why me?” Cecelia cried. “I don’t want to be the new—” She cut herself off.

Ceòl hung his head. “What you want won’t matter to them.”

Billie locked eyes with Corvo. “If you knew about this dangerous cult, why are you in Dunwall and not in Karnaca trying to stop them?”

She had a point. “When Ceòl first arrived and told me about these people, but—”

“I told Corvo to leave them alone. We can’t get to them, anyway,” Ceòl insisted. “Their hideout is remote and warded by powerful magic. If we attempted to storm their base, we’d never even get close.”

Corvo searched Ceòl’s face. Was that true or just a way to dissuade Billie from taking matters into her own hands?

Billie clearly wasn’t convinced. “I know Serkonos like the back of my hand. You’re telling me these people have a base warded by magic and no one noticed?”

Ceòl leaned forward and hung his head. “They operate out of the quarry on Shindaerey Peak.”

Billie scoffed. “There’s no quarry on Shindaerey Peak.”

“Isn’t there?”

She paused. “No. There isn’t. I know Karnaca. There’s no way to keep an entire quarry a secret.”

“It wasn’t a secret. Hundreds of people lived and worked there, until about ten years ago.”

Corvo froze. Ten years ago? Oh no.

“What happened ten years ago?” Billie asked.

“A great disruption in the Void. The ripples from that massive shift were felt everywhere, though most of the effects were subtle and temporary. But Shindaerey Peak is special, and reacted dramatically.”

Corvo watched Ceòl’s face soften, and for a moment he almost sounded like his old self again.

“One day, poor miners were carving hunks of stone out of the mountain, cursing their lots in life. The next, thick veins of silver popped up everywhere. Each swing of the axe hit the tip of a fortune. It was as if every miner’s desires were made manifest by the power of their own will.”

Corvo gasped. What was it Ceòl said all those years ago? Spells only needed four things: a source of power, appropriate ingredients, action and power of will.

What source of power was located in that mountain?

“I think I would have heard about something like that,” Billie said.

“Everyone heard. New carriage lines were built to carry people to the top of the mountain as the silver rush at Shindaerey Peak reached its fever pitch. But it didn’t last long.”

Corvo leaned forward. “Why not?”

“The miners began to see things. Hear things. Some lost their minds. Most fled. Eventually the company shut down operations, so desperate to abandon that cursed place they left tons of silver behind. And when the miners returned home…”

Corvo guessed the rest of the sentence. “They started to forget?” Ceòl nodded and Corvo let the implication wash over him. “A massive wave of selective amnesia.”

Ceòl looked at him from beneath his dark eyelashes. “Indeed.”

“And you say the quarry is protected by a field of magic?” Corvo asked. “Some kind of spell?”

Ceòl shook his head. “A side effect. The shockwave that changed the Void awakened an artifact lodged deep within the mountain. Silent for thousands of years, it was reanimated by the subtle waves of the Void that washed over the world.”

Cecelia spoke up from her spot across the room. “And this awakened artifact is making the protective field around the mountain?”

“Not on purpose, but yes. And that makes it possible for the Ascended to operate with such secrecy. People have tried to hike to the peak in the years since. Some for sport, others for profit.But the field around the mountain confuses anyone caught within. Most wandered until they died. A few fortunate ones roamed outside its influence by luck and had the good sense not to try again. And even if someone did manage to stumble upon the quarry and make their way back to Karnaca, they’d forget about what they saw there once they left that place.”

Billie hummed in thought. “You said most miners fled the quarry all those years ago. But not everyone?”

Ceòl nodded. “A few people from the corporate offices decided to stay behind.”

Cecelia stepped forward from the fireplace. “And they founded the Ascended.”

Billie drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair and stared at Ceòl. “If people forget about the quarry after they leave it, how do _you_ still know the way?”

“I don’t have Cecelia’s talents but I’m not entirely normal. The details don’t concern you.”

Billie threw up her hand. “Fine. You have some kind of power and so does Cecelia. They think you’re dead and now they want her. That about right?”

“Yes.”

Billie hung her head. “So much for changing the world. I can’t even rise through the ranks of a gang without getting maimed. Now you’re telling me the people behind all of this are protected by a magic barrier and some kind of powerful artifact.”

“One that grants them visions,” Ceòl added casually.

Billie snorted. “Of course. Why wouldn’t they have visions too!” She ran her hand over her face. “Anything else I need to know before I throw myself back into the fire?”

“You’re going back to Karnaca?” Cecelia gasped. “Won’t the Eyeless figure out that you helped me?”

“Not necessarily,” Billie said. “I only came on this mission as the getaway driver. I wasn’t supposed to go ashore. I can tell Lee I stayed on the ship like we planned, but when no one came back I went looking for the team.” She flipped her hand in the air. “And found they’d all been killed.”

Corvo scratched his beard. “I can have the City Watch make some phony reports about the Hatters and some new gang clashing in the streets, then leak those reports to the paper. That should make your story believable. But what’s your plan after that?”

“I don’t know. I wanted to figure out what the Eyeless were doing behind the scenes and stop them, but now this…” She slumped in her chair.

Ceòl stood up and began pacing. “There are no shortage of people curious about magic and the Void, and the Ascended will always find ways to exploit them. You could kill every member of the Eyeless, but the Ascended would find someone else to do their dirty work.” He paused and looked across the room. “And they’ll never stop coming for Cecelia. So we have to tackle the problem at its source.”

Corvo rose from his seat. “When you first arrived, I wanted to hunt the Ascended down. The only reason I haven’t done more to find them was because you _begged_ me to leave them alone.”

“That was before they wanted to kill my friend,” Ceòl said plainly. He turned to Billie. “Corvo and I will meet you in Karnaca.”

* * *

Cecelia was still a bit shaken when she saw Billie out. Corvo hesitated to let Cecelia leave his office unguarded, but Billie assured them every member of the Eyeless’ kidnapping team was dead, so he let Cecelia go with a promise to check in again later that night. 

Once he and Ceòl were alone, Corvo finally had a chance to ask the question burning the tip of his tongue. “Why do they want to make Cecelia a god?”

“They think she’d be compatible with the Void, I suppose.” He clasped his hands behind his back and stared into the fire. “She doesn’t do the selfish things most people would in her position.” Softer, he added, “She does like to watch.”

“Is she… compatible?”

Ceòl sighed. “I honestly don’t know. But it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t want to be a sacrifice and they can’t have her.” Softer he added, “I won’t bury my friend.”

“How could they possibly know about her?” Corvo asked.

“They must have seen her in a vision. It’s the only explanation.” Ceòl held up his hand to cut Corvo off. “And yes, that means it’s _possible_ they’ve seen me as well.”

If they knew about Ceòl they were a threat. So that sealed it. “The Ascended have to be neutralized.”

“I know.”

Finally, he and Ceòl were in agreement about this damned cult! “And here I thought you wanted to leave the Ascended alone.”

Ceòl grumbled. “If they’d chosen someone else maybe I’d find some peace in the knowledge that it’s what has to happen. But they can’t have Cecelia and they won’t stop coming for her unless someone who knows more than they do about the Void tells them to stop.” Corvo went rigid and Ceòl smoothed a hand across his cheek. “I’ll do whatever I have to make them call it off.”

Corvo leaned into his touch. “I don’t want you anywhere near them.”

“I don’t want to go near them either, but who else would they listen to?”

“They tried to kill you!” Corvo hissed. “They won’t give a damn about your opinions now! And how would we even get to them? You just said they’re protected by a magical field that no one can—” Corvo froze. “You know how to get to the quarry, don’t you?”

Ceòl grinned. “I do. And I’m not going tell you how.”

Corvo felt a headache coming on. “Let me guess. You’ll reveal the secret of how to get to the Ascended once we’re in Karnaca and I can’t send you back to Dunwall?”

Ceòl reached for his hand. “You need me to go with you. Even if I told you everything I know, I can’t predict every scenario that might come up.”

Damn it all. Ceòl was right but Corvo hated it. “Just tell me one thing,” he said. “If we succeed in getting the Ascended to call off their plans for Cecelia…” He furrowed his brow. “Then what?”

“Best case scenario? They agree to let her be and they search for another sacrifice.”

“And worst case?”

Ceòl bit his lower lip. “They don’t listen, and we’re forced to kill them all.”

“And with the Ascended dead, no one searches for a new god to stabilize the Void.” Corvo’s stomach soured. “What happens then?”

“Nothing good. But nothing we’ll live to see.”

* * *

Corvo prepared a mission briefing and took the documents directly to Emily. As it happened, she was in a meeting with High Overseer Khulan when he arrived. 

“Am I interrupting?” he asked.

Emily waved him to a seat. “Our official business wrapped up already. The High Overseer was just relaying some personal concerns.”

Corvo groaned.

“Not about your apprentice,” Khulan grumbled. “For once.”

“The High Overseer has concerns about the 50 year plan.”

Ceòl had already shared some of his thoughts with Emily, even though his formal proposal wasn’t finished.

Corvo narrowed his eyes at Khulan. “Last we spoke, it sounded like you didn’t hate the idea of restructuring the political system.”

“I don’t hate it. And neither will my brothers.” Khulan sighed. “Your ‘apprentice’ made no mention of the Abbey in the outlines I saw. Not taking our influence into account is a mistake.”

Emily leaned back in her seat and spun a pen between her fingers. She looked to Corvo. “He’s worried that weakening monarchical authority will cause a power vacuum for the Abbey to exploit.”

Corvo nodded. “He’s not wrong. Which is why I don’t think weakening your power is a good idea at all.”

“Obviously I’d restructure Parliament before I weakened my authority. The common people need to have their own political representatives and the nobility will fight that every step of the way.”

Khlan nodded in approval. “Still, don’t underestimate how easily a fledgling politician can be led astray by newfound influence and power. Both the Abbey and the legacy members of Parliament will try to corrupt them.”

Emily hummed. “Ceòl won’t give me his official recommendations for months. So let’s not get spun up about anything yet.”

She pulled one of her legs up to her chest and rested her chin on the knee. Very unladylike, but it spoke to how comfortable she felt with him and Khulan in the room. After years of strict formality, it was nice to see again.

“He says the kind of society I’m hoping to make isn’t possible without big changes.” Emily hugged her knee to her chest. “If that means I have to give up the throne, so be it.”

“But not for decades,” Khulan reassured Corvo. “Change like that needs time to settle in.”

Emily nodded. “And I’ll need to start a retirement fund, won’t I? I should pay more attention to my investments since I might have to live on my own out in the world one day.”

The wisest investment Emily could make would be lowering the bounty on Daud. She’d need that money in her old age if her long-term plans came to fruition. But this wasn’t the time to bring it up.

Khulan’s eyes slid to the envelope under his arm. “We can finish that discussion another time. Corvo has some important business.”

“Actually, you could stay for this.” Corvo sighed. “Since I promised to keep you in the loop.”

He slid the briefing over to Emily and watched as she read through everything. Her eyes were wide as they scanned the pages. Then, she slid the summaries over to Khulan.

“Is Cecelia alright?” Emily asked. “Will this cult come for her again?”

“She’s shaken but unharmed. As for what the Ascended will do…” Corvo ran a hand through his long hair. “They’ll try again. If they’ve gotten it in their heads to sacrifice her to the Void, nothing will stop them. So we have to.”

“And Ceòl is alright with this plan?” Emily asked. “Wasn’t he the one who thought we should let them be? If the only way to stabilize the Void is with a sacrifice—” She cut herself off. “Not that we should allow one! It’s just a change from the last time he gave his opinion.”

Corvo smiled. “He wants to protect his friend.”

Khulan’s face was pale as he read the reports, but he made no comment on the matter of cults and human sacrifices to the Void. Instead he asked a practical question. “E _xactly_ what do you plan to do in Karnaca?”

“We’re working with a contact of mine. She’ll get us access to the gang, and from there, Ceòl knows a way to find the cult.”

Emily curled her lip. “Yes, I recognize the name of your contact.”

Khulan stared at his folded hands. “Thank you for respecting me enough to keep me in the loop on this. I wish I could offer some sort of assistance but—”

Corvo smiled solemnly. “I understand.”

Khulan was under enough scrutiny as it was, and no one else in the Abbey brotherhood was supposed to know anything about the godless Void. Telling Khulan was simply a courtesy.

Once Khulan left them, Emily turned back to the mission brief. Corvo watched as she ran her thumb over the name _Billie Lurk_. Emily rose and stood in front of the portrait of Jessamine hanging over the mantle.

“Did you ask her about…”

“Daud? No.” Corvo clasped his hands behind his back.

“Why not?”

Corvo joined her by the portrait. “She was afraid to ask for my help, even with Cecelia’s life on the line. If I pushed—”

“You didn’t want to risk spooking her. I understand.” She turned to him. “You don’t have to interrogate her about Daud’s whereabouts, so long as she’s forthcoming and helps you take down this cult. But if you find any information about him while you’re looking into this mess, you will tell me.”

Corvo opened his mouth but Emily held her hand for silence.

“Don’t confront him. Don’t try to bring him in. Just send me whatever information I need in a coded letter. The Caulkenny cipher should still be secure.”

“Alright,” Corvo said. “If I find anything on Daud, I’ll tell you. I promise. But you promise me something too.” He looked to the portrait of Jessamine and back to Emily. “If I tell you to back off, you need to trust me.”

Emily puffed her chest but now it was Corvo’s turn to signal for silence.

“A group of sell swords stomping around Karnaca will draw attention. I don’t know who or what we’ll find while we try to get to the Ascended. I don’t know what kind of deals I’ll have to make to keep Cecelia safe from them. So if I tell you to hold your mercenaries back, I want you to trust that I have my reasons.”

Emily hung her head. She didn’t answer.

Corvo reached for her shoulder and squeezed. “Protecting the people you care about comes before revenge.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the first draft of this fic, Cecelia came with Corvo and Ceòl to Karnaca. But when I started revising things in January, I realized most of the problems in the 2nd half of the fic had to do with the awkward contrivances I used to keep Cecelia out of play. With her powers available to the group, there was no reason for half the conflicts I had planned. So, I kept her in Dunwall. In the end, I think the fic is better for it. But don’t worry, she’s being pampered in Dunwall Tower!
> 
> Anyway, enjoy a chapter that is equal parts domestic fluff and competence porn. Next chapter, everybody meets and confrontations happen!

Cecelia hated being left behind and Corvo didn’t blame her. He knew they could use her help, but she needed to stay under guard at Dunwall Tower. The Ascended could not be allowed to get their hands on her. And if the Eyeless didn’t believe Billie’s story about the failed abduction, she wouldn’t be able to warn him the next time they made plans to kidnap Cecelia.

At least the journey to Karnaca was much more comfortable than the month-long haul on a cargo vessel Corvo suffered through last time. The moderately sized yacht zipped across the water at a speed that would land them in Karnaca in only ten days. Once there, they’d be surrounded by servants, guards and nobles in the Grand Palace.

The sun shimmered on the ocean and Corvo swayed with the rocking of the waves. He’d enjoy the relative solitude of the sea while he could.

He and Ceòl weren’t alone, of course. There were plenty of crew aboard. But they all had jobs to do and paid Corvo little mind when he retreated to his cabin in the evening— his shared cabin. The suite included a small attached room, typically used by personal servants, where Ceòl was pretending to sleep.

If they’d truly been concerned about appearances, he’d have put his lover in one of the empty cabins across the hall. But Corvo’s sleeping arrangements with his apprentice were something of an open secret. The maids in Dunwall Tower could only find Ceòl’s bed linens untouched so many mornings in a row before gossip spread.

He glanced to the door connecting their rooms and then to his empty bed. Ceòl said he wanted to finish writing the chapter he was working on, but that was nearly two hours ago. Corvo rapped his knuckles against the polished wood a few times, then stuck his head through the door.

Ceòl’s eyes shot up from his work. “Almost finished. I realized there was another section I needed to include and I…”

“You’ve been at it for hours.” Corvo stepped behind him and gently rubbed his stiff shoulders. Just like old times.

Ceòl melted under his touch and tilted his head back. “You know me well.”

“I’d like to think so.” He dug his thumbs into the space above Ceòl’s shoulder blades and the resulting moan was almost obscene. Corvo stiffened in his pants.

“Corvo, since you know me so well, I could use your help with something.” He set aside the manuscript and fished out a sheet of loose paper with dozens of lines written and scratched out.

Corvo examined the page. “What’s this?”

 

> ~~_Each of these changes necessary to achieve your vision, will bring enormous risk_ ~~
> 
> ~~_As your future Spymaster, I should shy away from the very ideas_ ~~
> 
> ~~_The changes you want to achieve, if they are to last long-term, are not_ ~~
> 
> ~~_A monarchy is a system I believe to be incompatible with_ ~~
> 
> ~~_Since you are unlikely have any heirs of your own blood to take over after your passing, the journey towards this society_ ~~

“I have millennia of history, theory and analysis organized inside my head. And yet, something as simple as a heartfelt foreword…” He huffed.

“You’re including a foreword to Emily?”

“I’m trying.”

Corvo hummed as he scanned over the lines again. “None of these seem very heartfelt.”

“I know. I may scrap the idea and stick to the simple analysis she asked for.” Ceòl sighed. “I think the writing helps. When I’m putting all of this forgotten history to the page it relieves the pressure inside my head.”

He leaned into Corvo’s hands. “When I’m finished with Emily’s project I might keep writing. I could preserve thousands of years of culture, history, language. Art. Music.” He took a shaky breath. “I can never share it with anyone, but I’d like to write down what I know. Maybe someone, some day, will find them and…” He trailed off.

“You miss being a god. Being… vast.” He ran a thumb over the back of Ceòl’s neck. “You’re not happy here.”

“Cecelia talked to you.” He patted Corvo’s hand on his shoulder, then squeezed. “I’m as happy as I am capable of being right now.” He turned his head and met Corvo’s eyes. “My depression isn’t your fault.”

Corvo leaned down and pressed his nose into Ceòl’s hair. “Tell me what you need,” Corvo whispered into the shell of his ear.

Ceòl whimpered and bared his neck. “A distraction.”

And Corvo was more than happy to provide one. He gripped the back of Ceòl’s chair and spun it away from the desk. Then he dropped to his knees and ran his palms up the length of Ceòl’s long legs. He palmed Ceòl’s erection through his pants.

“Corvo,” Ceòl gasped. “You don’t have to…” He trailed off when Corvo unbuttoned his pants and freed his erection.

“I don’t do this as often as I should,” Corvo said, voice low and husky as he pumped the length in his rough hands. Once Ceòl was fully hard, Corvo leaned forward, letting his hot breath ghost across the flesh. “But I’d like to get some more practice. If you’d be willing.”

Ceòl’s voice was strained as he said, “I could be convinced.”

~~~~~~~~

Half an hour later they lay twined together on the small bed in Ceòl’s cabin. Corvo poked at the tender skin behind his lips. He took Ceòl just to the edge of climax three times before he finally let the man finish. Corvo’s lips were swollen from sheathing his teeth and his jaw ached, but it was worth it to see Ceòl unravel so spectacularly. Corvo reached climax on his knees with a hand down his trousers only moments after Ceòl finished in his mouth.

“You look smug,” Ceòl murmured into his neck. “I’d be annoyed, if that wasn’t the most amazing orgasm I’ve ever had.”

“Flatterer,” Corvo chuckled.

“I’m serious. As much as I likened being human to torture, there are benefits to feeling with such intensity.”

“I’m glad,” Corvo chuckled. He paused, then asked, “It’s not so terrible, is it? Being human. Being… with me.”

Ceòl softened under his touch. “You are the reason I chose escape when the Ascended came for me.”

Corvo shivered when Ceòl placed a hand on his chest, just over his heart. He wondered if Ceòl could feel the way it swelled.

“You’re the reason I chose to live. No matter how sullen I may seem about the turn my life has taken, never forget that.”

* * *

Their arrival at the Grand Palace was met with minimal fanfare, to Corvo’s relief. The welcome committee consisted of “Duke Abele”, Aramis Stilton and a few servants to take their bags. The servants, ever professional, didn’t blink when Corvo requested a suite with an adjoining room for his apprentice. And a balcony.

The palace was less ostentatious than it had been years ago— much of the gold decor had been melted down to replenish the nation’s reserves— but it was still a spectacle to behold. The bright plaster and polished wood was a marvel from a distance. There were far too many ways for an assassin to move along the sloping rooflines, though. High viewing windows in every room were gorgeous, but also a sniper's dream. Textured walls could be climbed quietly with the right equipment.

Corvo shook his head. He should be admiring the spectacular sunset over the western mountains, not contemplating palace security.

He’d have preferred to stay somewhere more discreet during their trip, like a moderately-priced inn using false identities. But, after his undercover antics a few years ago, Corvo couldn’t go anywhere without whispers following him. In Karnaca, a new children’s game called “spot Corvo Attano” had become popular. Traveling to his home city in disguise was going to be a problem.

Since there was no point visiting Karnaca secretly, he needed some official business reason for being in town. And Ceòl had given him one.

Investment banking.

Emily needed to begin saving for retirement if Gristol’s monarchy was going to dissolve in half a century, and one of the best-rated investment banks in the Isles was located in Karnaca. Luckily, Emily already did business with Michaels’ Bank.

Vesper Bristow— the bank’s “liaison to the crown”— already handled a small treasury holding for the Empire, and he’d been politely probing Emily about opening a personal investment account for years. She’d always chosen to keep her finances within Gristol’s banking institutions for security purposes. But this was a good time to explore her options, especially if Dunwall’s elite became hostile in the future. Having off-island investments for Emily was a genuinely good idea as well as a convenient cover for their trip.

So, officially Corvo was in Karnaca to discuss the Empresses’ investment options. And while he was in town on this perfectly legitimate business, he and Ceòl would figure out how to make a move on the Ascended.

Two pairs of heavy footsteps drew Corvo’s attention from his thoughts. He turned to greet his hosts.

“Thank you for accommodating us on such short notice, Duke Abele.” He offered Armando a bow for appearances.

“Anything for the Royal Protector,” he said with the Duke’s typical aplomb. Then softer he added,“Corvo, you hound.” Armando elbowed him in the ribs. “How old is that ‘apprentice’ of yours?”

“He’ll be twenty-two in the Month of Hearths,” Corvo bristled.

Armando slapped him on the back. “Oh ho! As old as that?”

Stilton sidled up beside them. “Hush, Armando,” he whispered. “I’m glad Corvo has found someone.”

Corvo sighed. “Thank you. But Ceòl really is my apprentice. I wouldn’t have given him the position if he wasn’t a good fit.” Armando snickered and Corvo ran a hand across his tired face at the unintended double entendre. “You know what I mean.”

Stilton patted him on the shoulder. “I know how it is. You work with someone, spend long hours and late nights together. You find comfort in unexpected places.” His voice cracked a bit. “One thing leads to another.”

Corvo felt for Stilton. He knew exactly what it was to mourn someone like that. There would always be an ache in his chest every time Emily did something that reminded him of Jessamine.

“How’s Luca?” Corvo asked Stilton after a few moments.

“Physically, he’s fine. His room at the hospital is private and he’s not being treated for his ‘condition’, since there’s nothing wrong with him. I saw to that much, at least. Mostly the doctors and nurses just pity the poor madman who thinks he’s a duke. It makes him furious.” Stilton wiped a tear forming at the corner of his eye. “I stopped going to visit him last year. He’d say such horrible things, about how Theo would hate me if he was still alive. And I—”

Another set of footsteps, light and careful, echoed on the vanished wood beams. Corvo smiled when Ceòl followed the proper etiquette, his bow low and long to Armando but short and courteous to Stilton.

“I hope I’m not interrupting. I can come back if you like.”

“Not at all.” Armando grinned. “I was just making sure my guests got settled in alright. I hope the room will be comfortable for the _both_ of you.” He chuckled as he made his way back out the way he came.

Ceòl looked to Stilton. “Does he _ever_ break character or is it like this all the time?”

Stilton’s posture went rigid and he shot a panicked glare to Corvo.

“It’s alright.” Corvo held his hands out. “Ceòl can be trusted. He is going to replace me one day.”

Stilton’s face only soured. “I assumed _that_ particular secret wasn’t going to be passed down.”

Corvo didn’t blame him for being angry. Normally he’d never have told another soul, but how could be explain Ceòl’s unique situation?

“Mr. Stilton,” Ceòl said cooly. “I heard the servants mention you’re staying at the Grand Palace for the foreseeable future?”

Corvo cocked his head. Interesting. Why was Stilton staying here and not at his mansion?

Stilton took a deep breath. “My house is undergoing… renovations. Actually, I was hoping to speak to Corvo about the project’s progress, if you wouldn’t mind giving us a moment.”

Corvo’s eyes widened. “The ‘renovations’ on your study?”

“Indeed. The uh, infestation is worse now.”

With no tact whatsoever, Ceòl blurted out, “Is the Void leaking into the rest of the house?”

Stilton stomped his foot and the entire balcony shook. He hissed, “Corvo! I haven’t even told Armando about that, and you told your apprentice? Have you lost your mind?”

Unfazed, Ceòl asked, “Did it get worse just after the Fugue Feast?”

Oh. Corvo realized where he was going with this.

Stilton nodded. “What do you know?”

* * *

If Ceòl was wrong about the slow deterioration of the Void, one of the first places to show the impact of its decay would be Stilton’s. So when he insisted on seeing Stilton’s house immediately, Corvo braced himself for the worst. 

The three of them traveled across the city in an armored railcar. Corvo’s eyes darted to every rooftop and alley they passed, watching for signs of an attack. The Eyeless could be lurking in the shadows. Luckily, Stilton’s manor was in Howler territory.

Stilton unlocked the gates and as soon as they entered the long corridor, Corvo felt it— an abyss draining him from the inside. He flexed his hand experimentally. His powers were still suppressed in this place.

The three of them walked through the dark hall and out into the moonlit courtyard. The manor house seemed abandoned, until he heard a desperate scream from inside.

Corvo skidded to a halt as a young woman came bolting through the front doors! Ceòl gasped and Corvo grabbed him by the waist. But Stilton didn’t even flinch. He stood in the center of the courtyard and watched, unmoving, as she sobbed and screamed.

“Please! No! I won’t— I won’t tell!” She cast terrified glances behind her. The woman— a maid based on her uniform— nearly reached their position in the center of the courtyard when thick vines burst up through the ground and grabbed her around the waist! The tendrils clung tightly, then squeezed. The woman went limp in the vine’s clutches.

The scene dissolved before their eyes.

Corvo released a shuddering breath. In the darkness, he hadn’t noticed that the woman wasn’t real! She’d been only a flickering specter of another timeline.

Stilton turned to face them. “That’s Ursula, one of my housekeepers. She’s on paid leave with the rest of the staff while the house is ‘being renovated.’ But here, she dies over and over.” He waved them forward.

They made it to the front doors just in time to see Ursula run towards them screaming again.

In the entryway, the ghost of a burly repairman gurgled around a bloody gash in his throat.

“That’s Aaron. He’s been with me for over ten years. I spoke to him last week.”

Stilton grabbed an oil lamp to help them through the dark foyer and led them further inside. The flickering echoes of two more servants lay dead on the stairs, a third dying slowly nearby. Within the interior great hall, moonlight streamed through the large panes of glass in the ceiling. The ghostly corpses littering the mansion’s interior flickered in and out of existence in the eerie lighting.

“They all die here,” Stilton murmured. 

Corvo reached for Ceòl as they followed Stilton to the study. His hand was shaking and Corvo squeezed.

“Are you alright?” he whispered.

Ceòl nodded. “It’s more gruesome than I remember, watching people die.” He huffed. “I’ve seen millions perish in the most horrible ways imaginable. It never felt like this.”

Despite himself, Corvo smiled. “Empathy.”

Ceòl scowled. “I know what it is, but I don’t have to like it.”

They stayed a few paces back while Stilton fumbled with the combination to the study. While he was distracted, Corvo whispered into Ceòl’s ear, “Were your estimates off? Is something serious about to happen with the Void?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ll have to run some tests.”

Corvo furrowed his brow. Tests?

Stilton unlocked the study and the three of them entered. He led the way to the small parlor and turned to face them when they all saw the scene within.

Corvo froze. This was new.

The last time he was here, Corvo watched the scene play out with four members of Delilah’s conspiracy. Now, a fifth person stood with the spectral group— Aramis Stilton!

“Oh.” Ceòl stepped into the center of the non-corporeal gathering. He looked between the two Stiltons. “Interesting.”

The group’s conversation happened similarly to before, but this time with a hesitant Stilton among the members. They proceeded to the lower level where the ritual was performed and, as happened last time, the group began the summoning. However, in this version of events, Aramis Stilton grabbed his head and screamed!

“I can feel him!” the other Stilton shouted. “It’s Theo. He’s stuck! We have to help… we have… to…” The words trailed off as he fell to his knees at the edge of the ritual circle, eyes glazed and mumbling incoherently.

Ashworth scoffed. “I told him to focus.”

“Well this is going to be a fine mess to deal with,” grumbled the Duke.

From the center of the circle, a black mass bubbled up from the floor and a figure reached towards the ceiling as Delilah returned.

The scene finished, and then began all over again.

Corvo looked to a surprisingly calm Aramis Stilton, the one in the flesh. “It’s changed.”

“I noticed,” Stilton said. “I thought you might have some insight about why.”

“I’m just as confused as you are.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” Stilton cried. “I can’t have my servants on paid leave indefinitely.Every time I come back here, it’s spread further than before! When I left, Ursula faded away a few steps out of the front doors. Now she…” He gulped. “Completes her trip across the courtyard.”

Corvo noticed Ceòl had been suspiciously silent for all of this.

“You said something about running tests?” Corvo asked him.

Ceòl nodded, straightened the lapels on his vest, and trotted back up the stairs without a word.

Corvo and Stilton followed.

He watched as Ceòl searched Stilton’s manor by lamplight, collecting odds and ends. Ceòl took several clocks, a spool of copper wire, tyvian ore, fine crystal dinnerware, several fish skulls from the kitchen trash, and a bouquet of plants from the garden. He pulled apart appliances and added bits of scrap metal and magnets to the collection as well. Then, he piled them all into a large wooden crate.

“Mr. Stilton, is your house disconnected from a power supply or just shut off at the box?”

“It’s connected. I just flipped the fuses before I left.”

“Can you point me to the fuse box?”

Stilton showed him to the basement and Ceòl examined the wiring panel, making notes on the back of some old blueprints as he compared them.

“Thank the Void for competent electricians.” Ceòl smiled at Stilton. “We’d have been here all night if I had to map the conduits myself.”

Ceòl trotted back up the main level, Corvo and Stilton at his heels.

“What is he up to?” Stilton whispered.

Corvo had no clue. But with Ceòl’s millennia of knowledge, he was in no position to question his expertise. So Corvo replied, “He knows what he’s doing.”

Corvo did his best to appear quietly confident as Ceòl crafted a series of of strange contraptions from the items he’d salvaged. He used Stilton’s workshop to cut the lower halves of the crystal glasses into thin slivers and positioned them within a series of copper-lined plates. He also cut some small squares from the stacks of scrap metal in the corner.

Ceòl placed his tiny machines at specific places around the manor grounds. The first one, he placed at the entryway near the door to the promenade. Others went in the very back of the property, the center of the manor, and Stilton’s bedroom. Ceòl placed the last one in the study, just where the image of Delilah broke through from the Void every couple of minutes.

“Corvo, I need a hole in…” Ceòl checked the electrical blueprints. He pointed to a corner of the upper level of the study. “That wall. About twelve inches down from the ceiling, between the two support beams.”

Corvo had to climb on top of a bookshelf to reach the spot.

“There’s a red wire. It’s not powered, don’t worry. Pull it out.”

Corvo cut through the plaster and pulled free what he could. Ceòl met him on the upper level with a spool of copper wire and did something complicated that involved stripping and weaving together new connections. He ran the spool down to the tiny box of magnets and crystal. Then, he placed a small metal square on the top of the device.

“Now, let’s turn on power to this room.”

Corvo ran back to the basement, flipped the appropriate fuse, and returned just in time to see Ceòl place himself cross-legged in front of the contraption.

He wasn’t sure what he expected, but based on everything he’d seen Ceòl do so far, he assumed this “test” was something mechanical.Rather than flip a switch on the machine, Ceòl gathered a fish skull in one hand and stuffed some of the plants from the garden tightly inside.

“Normally, a charm like this would take a full day. But here…”

Corvo watched as Ceòl took the plant-stuffed skull between his hands and squeezed. Then he closed his eyes and began to hum.

It was barely audible over the ghostly ritual taking place just a few feet away, and Ceòl seemed to be singing to himself rather than trying make the tune heard. Thin wisps of black smoke curled around Ceòl’s clasped hands and Corvo gasped. But Ceòl didn’t flinch, so he let it be.

After another minute of humming, Ceòl slowly opened his eyes. He unclasped his hands to reveal the tiny skull had been blackened and the plants trickled out as ashes. He placed the skull within the box and the machine began to hum like a rune!

Ceòl reached out with a small tuning fork he’d taken from the music room and tapped it against the delicate sliver of crystal. The sound echoed low and loud through the house, a deep bass Corvo could feel in his feet! From outside the study, he heard another chime, then another, as the crystals housed in the other strange contraptions responded to the tone!

Then Ceòl took one of the thin metal squares he’d cut with Stilton’s equipment and placed it above the small magnet.

The metal square shot upwards and lodged itself in the ceiling with a thud!

Corvo jumped back and even Ceòl stared wide-eyed at the impact.

“Huh.” Ceòl made some notes on his papers. “Let’s check the others.”

Sure enough, the other devices around the house all had the metal squares levitating above them, though not as high as the one in the study. The device in the center of the manor levitated its square halfway between the floor and the ceiling. In Stilton’s bedroom and the back courtyard, the squares levitated a few feet above the boxes. In the front courtyard, less than a foot. At the box near the entrance to the property, the square floated just enough for Ceòl to pass his pen underneath.

Ceòl made some more notes. It felt familiar, watching him scribble equations on paper with the focus of a natural philosopher. It reminded Corvo of their stolen moments in the observation room.

After a few minutes, Ceòl turned to Stilton with a reassuring smile. “Good news! This isn’t the end of the world.”

“It’s the end of my life if the Abbey finds out!” Stilton cried. “I can’t keep it a secret for much longer.”

“What I mean is, I think I can patch the worst of this. At least for now.” Ceòl waved for them to follow.

“Are you some kind of witch?” Stilton asked.

“Not in the traditional sense. But that’s not an unfair description.”

Back inside, Corvo helped Ceòl gather everything he’d used and they took it all into the study along with more bones and wooden boxes. Ceòl created four more blackened fish skulls in his hands— a process that left him with beads of sweat rolling down his neck— and each machine got its own box and a charm placed within.

Corvo jumped from the second floor railing to the chandelier and managed to free the metal square from the ceiling, then it was placed it back in its box. Corvo helped Ceòl run more wires out of the walls as well. Stilton would never use this room again, so hopefully he didn’t mind the damage.

One by one, each contraption started to hum. All five boxes sang at different frequencies, an eerie harmony in this fractured space.

They watched the echo of Delilah return from the Void, over and over. Until…

Corvo wasn’t sure he saw it at first— a flicker among the spectral conspirators. Then another. Ashworth moved her head to look at the screaming Aramis Stilton, but another head in the same space looked straight ahead and continued summoning. Ashworth spoke with two voices. Then so did the Duke.

As the scene reset itself, the members of the conspiracy walked down the stairs again, only this time, two versions descended into the ritual circle, and not perfectly in sync. Only one spectral version of Aramis Stilton was among them.

“What’s happening?” Corvo whispered. “Is it getting worse?”

“No.” Ceòl inspected the wires running to each machine. “It’s getting better. The separation between the two paths needs to happen slowly for… safety purposes.”

Stilton gulped audibly. “Should we be standing back?”

“I don’t anticipate any explosions,” Ceòl said with a shrug, and went back to monitoring each box.

Stilton narrowed his eyes and retreated into one of the nearby recesses. Corvo opted to stay close to Ceòl.

The bones began to spin and rattle within the boxes, trying to launch themselves towards the ceiling. Only this time, the boxes had their tops closed off. The more the contraptions hummed and rattled, the more distinct the visions before them became until they were watching two entirely different versions of the ritual take place in the same space!

Then, ever so slowly, one version began to replace the other. The version of the ritual with Stilton in attendance grew dimmer on every replay until only one version remained— the one in which Stilton never showed up.

The rattling in the machines grew less frantic until Corvo could barely hear the small vibrations inside.

Ceòl ran his strange experiment again. This time the small metal square barely moved when placed over the magnet.

Ceòl wiped his forehead, hand still black from the ashes of the burnt plants. “Back to normal,” he declared.

“For what counts as normal in this damned house,” Stilton muttered as he shuffled out of the closet. He looked to the original ritual taking place.

Ceòl shrugged. “Fair point. But with any luck, you won’t have specters peeking out of your study for another twenty or thirty years.” He raised a finger. “With any luck,” he repeated. “If anything changes, write to me at Dunwall Tower. Mention ‘renovations’ in the letter and I’ll know you need another visit.”

He rolled up the blueprints and then began carefully disassembling the strange machines.

“What was that other version?” Stilton wiped his hands back and forth against his trousers. “I never participated that night. Why was there another version of me screaming about…”

Corvo had the same question. He’d gone out of his way to stop Stilton from attending the ritual. But Ceòl didn’t answer, and Stilton didn’t push for an explanation.

The three of them made their way back to the property’s entrance but before he opened the doors, Stilton turned to Ceòl once again.

“About what he— the other me said. About Theo.” He took a shaky breath. “Is Theo not at peace?”

Ceòl’s shoulders slumped. “Sometimes spirits linger in the Void when a person had a great deal of regret or worry before their passing. Theodanis Abele used to be one of them.”

Stilton make a choking sound in his throat. Corvo reached out to him before he even realized what he was doing.

“U _sed to be_ one of them. Past tense?” Corvo asked.

Ceòl nodded. “His spirit finally dispersed a few years ago, not long after Armando replaced Luca. If I had to guess, the old Duke knew what a nightmare his son was going to be and the worry kept him from letting go.” He clasped Stilton’s shoulder a squeezed. “He found peace after what you did.”

* * *

Later that night, as they got ready for bed, Corvo sidled up beside Ceòl while he washed his face.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered.

Ceòl locked eyes with him in the mirror. “I’m old.”

Corvo placed a gentle kiss on the back of his neck. “So everything is alright for now? The Void isn’t collapsing? Or at least, not soon?”

“Thankfully. When I fled a few months ago, I imagine there were some disturbances throughout the Void. Stilton’s manor, having a hole in it, felt the effects acutely.”

“Why did it show two versions of events?”

Ceòl scratched his chin. Then he took his embroidered vest off the nearby hanger. It bore Darion’s signature logo on the breast pocket, an insignia of purple and gold. Ceòl traced the stitching with his long fingers.

“Imagine this cloth is reality.” He placed the vest neatly over the drain in the sink. “Darion’s insignia begins here, and branches left into gold and right into purple.”

Corvo nodded.

“When I escaped the Ascended a few months ago, it required some of the energies in the Void to be shifted. There was a temporary change of… pressure, for lack of a better description. The shift wasn’t hazardous except for places where there was no buffer between the spaces, like Stilon’s. In his study, reality is like a piece of cloth above an open drain.”

He placed a finger over the insignia and pushed down. The cloth bunched into the hole and the two sides of the insignia touched in the center.

Corvo’s eyes widened. “And the two versions of events existed in the same space?”

Ceòl smiled wide and it sent shivers down his spine. Corvo wished he could make him look that happy every day for the rest of his life.

“That’s exactly it.” He pushed his finger in further and the cloth bunched up more and sunk deeper. “And as time went on, the phenomena spread further from the house.”

“And what you did tonight pulled it back and straightened out the wrinkles? So the two sides of the pattern are separate again?”

Ceòl pulled his vest free from the drain, frowning at the water stains on the back of the fabric, and hung it up again. “Precisely.”

He linked his fingers with Ceòl’s. “Thank you for helping Stilton.”

Ceòl shrugged. “We couldn’t risk the Overseers investigating.”

“I mean, it was nice that you gave him some solace. About Duke Theodanis.”

“Oh.” Ceòl looked away. “He asked a question and I answered. That’s all.”

“Not something you’re known for,” Corvo’s said with a wink.

“Yes, well…” Ceòl looked at his hands. “I’m a brand new me.”


	14. Chapter 14

Corvo received a note from Billie the next morning. She was ready to meet. 

The map she drew for them showed the Wale docked away from the main harbor, in a small recess near the fingers of Clemente Landing. Staying that close to Howler territory was a bold choice for someone with an Eyeless tattoo, but also not a place her fellow gang members would stumble upon her by accident. So, Corvo supposed it made sense as a hideaway.

He and Ceòl borrowed a skiff from the Grand Palace’s boat house and made their way to the rendezvous point. Sure enough, a familiar ship was tied off at the dock of an old carriage repair station. The Cowed Hangman may have had different registration papers and a new name painted on the side, but Corvo recognized the Dreadful Wale.

They tied off and climbed aboard.

Billie greeted them with a nod and motioned for them to follow as she disappeared below deck.

Corvo adjusted his vision to take stock of their surroundings. He doubted she’d summon them to an ambush but he scanned the ship anyway.

Billie slowed down just before they reached the doors to the cargo hold. “Now, before we go in…”

Just then, Corvo saw someone on the other side of the doors. The glowing silhouette looked like a man, thin and hunched over in an armchair. Unarmed.

“Who’s in there?” Corvo’s voice was low and he reached for the pistol at his waist.

Billie blocked the doors with her body. “Hands off your weapons.”

Ceòl’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. “Whoever it is, Corvo can control himself.”

Billie cut her good eye to the ceiling. “Do you think you could stop him if he decided to go off?”

“I might surprise you,” Ceòl replied.

Corvo held his hands out at his sides, away from his weapons. “Billie. Who’s in the hold?”

She sighed and pushed the door open. “I expect you _both_ to behave yourselves.”

The man sat in the shadows, leaning forward in his chair. He nodded to Corvo, but went rigid when his gaze landed on Ceòl. “Well, fuck me.”

Corvo’s stomach lurched at the low timbre of that voice. His hands twitched at his sides, unsure which weapon reach for. But the man in the shadows was addressing Ceòl, not him.

“Billie told me about everything she learned in Dunwall, including the hot gossip of Corvo’s affair with his bratty apprentice. But I did _not_ expect that brat to be you.”

Ceòl smiled. “Hello, Daud.”

“Hello, Outsider.”

Billie choked. “What did you just say?”

“Billie,” Daud said with the slow wave of a hand, “meet the black-eyed bastard. Er—” Daud squinted in the dim light of the cargo hold. “They’re green now, I guess.”

Corvo kept perfectly still. If he moved a muscle he was going to snap. He took one deep breath through his nose. Then another. And another. Finally, his heart began to slow enough that he could hear beyond the pounding in his ears.

Daud was here. He’d suspected Billie might be harboring him somewhere, but actually seeing Daud again…

Corvo barely recognized him. Daud’s hair had gone totally white, a decade earlier than it would’ve for most men. His skin was sickly pale and his eyes sunken. But his weight was the most shocking change! Daud’s linen shirt hung off his bony shoulders like it was still on a hanger. His knees were sharp points under worn trousers and his hands showed bulging veins beneath the paper thin skin.

“What happened to you?” Ceòl asked, eyes wide.

Daud cocked his head. “You don’t know?”

“I lost sight of you in Dabokva.”

“Not very godly of you.”

“I haven’t been one of those in a decade.”

“Huh.“ Daud seemed to consider that. “Well, the Eyeless had me prisoner. That’s what happened to me. What about… you?” He motioned to Ceòl’s human form.

“A recent inconvenience.” Ceòl huffed. “You lost my knife.”

“The Eyeless gave it to some cult.”

“I know,” Ceòl said softly.

Daud cleared his throat, a wet raspy process, then asked, “So how’d this happen? The knife turned you human? Or _without_ the knife you turned into a human?”

Ceòl simply replied, “No.”

Through the banter, Corvo kept breathing. In through his nose, out through his mouth. They were here to protect Cecelia. They were here to take down the Ascended. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Billie stepped forward. “To think I felt guilty for keeping Daud a secret from you in Dunwall. But this…” She poked Corvo to get his attention. “Were you planning on telling me who your ‘apprentice’ was?”

Corvo crossed his arms. “No.”

Luckily, Billie didn’t let any more awkward silences build up.

“Look, we need your help. And you could use ours.” She waved to an impressively detailed planning board. “I have access to the gang but very little information about the higher ups. Daud saw them, but he was drugged and can’t remember many details. But if _the Outsider_ knows half as much as he claims, I can use that information to—”

“No,” Corvo cut her off. He locked eyes with Ceòl and said, “You don’t tell them a damn thing until I have something I want.”

Ceòl furrowed his brow. “Corvo? What—”

Corvo jabbed a thick finger towards Daud. “Ceòl and I will help you under one condition.”

“Condition?” Daud scoffed. He rose from the chair on skinny legs and shuffled towards him. “You want to take down the Ascended as much as we do. They’re trying to kill your assistant. And something tells me if they ever find out _Ceòl_ is in Karnaca…”

Corvo’s hand acted on its own, fingers digging into Daud’s throat. “Is that a threat?” he snarled.

“Corvo!” Ceòl shouted.

Billie cocked the hammer of her pistol and took aim. “Hands off of him!”

Ceòl waved for Billie to stand down and wrapped his fingers around Corvo’s wrist. “Please.”

Corvo released Daud with a growl.

Daud doubled over coughing. When his breath returned, he rasped, “Wasn’t a threat. Just a fact. Don’t talk about ‘conditions’ like you don’t have every intention to go after this cult for your own reasons.”

Corvo took a step back, guided by Ceòl’s hand on his chest. “You’re right. Now that Cecelia’s involved and their visions are taking them to Dunwall, I’ll go after the Ascended with or without you. With Ceòl’s knowledge I don’t really need your help, but you _absolutely_ need mine.” He waved a hand to Billie. “Look at what’s happened to her.”

Billie scowled. “Don’t use me to guilt him.”

“Why not?” Corvo snapped. “You got close to this gang for him didn’t you?”

Billie stepped into Corvo’s space. “Maybe _I_ needed to even the scales.” Her voice cracked. “Yeah, I thought Daud was crazy when he asked me to stay near the Eyeless. But then I realized… what else am I doing with my life? Running? Taking a new name every couple of years and keeping my head down?” She looked away. “I did this for me as much as for Daud.”

Corvo’s anger fizzled away. But his point remained. “You’re in too deep. The Eyeless would never stop hunting if you left them.”

Billie averted her eye. “I can outrun them.”

“On your own, maybe. But hauling a sick old man around?” Corvo asked. “The two of you make quite a pair. They’d catch up.” He looked back and forth between Billie and Daud. “And after that botched kidnapping in Dunwall…”

“I know that, Corvo!” she snapped. “Alright? The Eyeless bought my story about what happened to the team, but I’m no fool. I can’t interfere with their plans a second time. And you can’t let them make another attempt on Cecelia. So let’s _all_ get over ourselves and—”

“On. One. Condition.” Corvo’s face didn’t waver.

“What condition?” Daud asked.

Corvo relaxed. “I want to speak to Daud privately.”

She scoffed. “After you just choked him, you think I’m gonna let—”

Ceòl stepped between Billie and Corvo. “He won’t do anything regrettable.” He turned to Corvo. “Right?”

“I promise,” Corvo said.

Daud nodded for her to go, and Billie jabbed a finger back and forth from her eye to Corvo in warning.

He waited until Ceòl and Billie were on the deck before he turned to Daud. “Once we’ve neutralized the Ascended and destabilized the Eyeless enough for Billie to run…”

“You want my head on a platter?” Daud asked, casual.

“I want you to turn yourself in.”

Daud ran his bony fingers over the back of his neck. They curled slightly at the second joint, like an older person developing arthritis. But Corvo had also seen fingers like that on prisoners who’d spent months clenching their fists.

“Well that would save Her Highness a lot of coin,” Daud said. “But why now? After all these years, why’d she suddenly decide to send the hounds?”

Corvo braced as the sickening twist in his gut coiled tight. “Because until a few years ago, she didn’t know.”

Daud’s eyes went wide. “She didn’t…” Then quietly, he said, “You never told her you spared my life.”

“I _didn’t_ spare your life!” Corvo stormed into Daud’s space and shoved his chest. Hard. “There was no mercy. I was never the better man.” He felt the saliva welling up in his mouth. Corvo fought the urge to spit or vomit or both. “I froze.”

Daud went rigid under his palm. “You…”

“I lowered my sword because I _choked_ , not because I made a choice. And then you were gone.”

He shoved. Daud stumbled backwards.

“And I had to choose who to go after. You or the bastards who had my daughter.”

He shoved again and Daud’s back hit the hull with a thud.

“Years went by before Emily’s reign was stable enough for me to look for you. So when I found that you’d kept your word, I grit my teeth and let you be.”

Daud’s voice was a hollow whisper. “Then why the mercenaries?”

“Because _she_ wants you to face justice.” Corvo took a moment to swallow around the lump in his throat. “Emily is in pain over this. As long as you’re out in the world she’ll keep sending mercenaries, and innocent lives will be caught in the crossfire. It’s time for this to stop. I want my daughter to have some closure.”

Daud looked to the floor. “At the cost of my life.”

“If that’s what it takes.” Corvo took a calming breath.“I don’t know what she has planned. I can’t guarantee she’ll let you live, but she wants you taken alive and delivered with no permanent injuries. And there’s not a mercenary group skilled enough to keep you prisoner all the way back to Dunwall without resorting to permanent injury.”

Corvo puffed his chest. “So here’s the offer. We can help you get rid of the Eyeless along with the Ascended, Billie escapes this gang before she loses any more limbs, and then you face justice in Dunwall. Otherwise, Ceòl and I go after the Ascended on our own and let Billie figure her own way out of this mess you got her into. Take it or leave it.”

Corvo stepped back. He kept his face inscrutable and hoped Daud believed his bluff.

“Shit.” Daud raised his eyes to the ceiling. The way his pupils expanded told Corvo he was looking up through hull. At Billie, he’d wager.

“I just want this to be over,” Daud whispered, half to himself. “After the botched job in Dunwall, some people in the gang have got to suspect her. Every time she leaves this boat, I wonder if this’ll be the day someone figures out what she’s up to. It was so selfish to get her involved.”

He sighed and looked down at his own hands. “The Eyeless are a tough group to work for. It’ll be years before they trust her with the information we need. And she’s in way too deep to pull a disappearing act. Fuck.” He ran a hand over his face.

Corvo couldn’t help but notice how loose the skin was, even around his cheeks and chin.

Finally, Daud grumbled, “Fine. You have my word. After the Ascended are taken care of and we scattered the Eyeless, I’ll turn myself in.”

“Good.” Corvo poked a single finger against Daud’s chest. “If you disappear after everything is over, I don’t care what Ceòl has to say about it. I will find you.” He locked eyes with Daud. “And I’ll injure you however I have to in the process.”

* * *

Ceòl spent several tense, quiet minutes on deck with Billie before Corvo poked his head out from below to signal them back inside. He was surprised to find Daud alive and well, if looking a little shaken. 

Billie crossed the room to him. “You alright?”

“I’m fine. Corvo and I just needed to clear the air. Not a scratch on me. See?” Daud turned to Ceòl. “And now that he and I have talked, _you_ start talking. Billie said we can’t get to the Ascended because there’s magic around their hideout?”

“Yes. To navigate our way to the quarry, we need a… special device.” He looked to Billie. “Every Eyeless leader is given a gift from the Ascended when they achieve their status— a device that can counter the effects of the magic protecting the mountain.”

“So, we need one of the Eyeless leaders to take us there?” Billie asked.

“It’s better to leave them out of it and simply steal one of the devices ourselves. The Eyeless leaders aren’t told what their special gift is for until it’s time for them to ‘ascend.’ So, as far as they all know, their prize is just a status symbol.”

Ceòl flipped the planning board on its axis to the back side. “There are three leaders and three devices. Thankfully, we only need to get one. But once we have it, we’ll need to make our way to Shindaerey Peak quickly. As soon as one of the ‘special gifts’ is discovered missing, the Eyeless will scour the city for it.”

He wrote the first name on the board and braced for Corvo’s reaction.

DOLORES MICHAELS

Corvo gasped. “ _That’s_ why you had me set those meetings about Emily’s investments!” He hummed. “Well, it is a good cover. Michaels has been trying to get Emily’s business for years, and I can case the bank by asking for a private tour.”

“We probably won’t attempt to steal Michaels’ device,” Ceòl clarified. “Even though she’s _surely_ keeping it somewhere in the bank, the security will be airtight. But Corvo’s presence there _also_ won’t arouse any suspicion since Michaels has been pursuing Emily’s money for years. So we may as well use the opportunity to investigate. If nothing else, Corvo can schedule meetings with Michaels as a way to keep her distracted while we track down the other devices.”

Billie shrugged. “Makes sense.”

“Next,” Ceòl pointed to the board as he wrote, “is Ivan Jacobi, local politician.”

“I know him.” Billie leaned forward. “I’ve seen him at the Specter Club, always headed upstairs where they serve the mystery drinks.”

Ceòl stiffened as a chill ran down his spine. “Have you had a chance to partake in the sanguine infusion?”

“No. I’ve been avoiding it.” Billie’s upper lip ticked. “It’s something disgusting isn’t it?”

Ceòl nodded, but thought it was best to stay on topic and left it at that.

“Jacobi’s residences and offices won’t have tight security. However, unlike Michaels, he could be keeping his device anywhere. In Upper Cyria alone he has a personal residence, an office to conduct his political business, and an office where he used to practice medicine. He also has the deeds for a dozen other properties in Karnaca. And all of them are equipped with safes.”

“That’s a lot of break-ins,” Corvo said. “And if he notices a string of intrusions before we get the right safe…”

Ceòl finished the thought. “It will alert him and the other Eyeless leaders.” He cleared his throat. “Which brings us to our final target.”

He scribbled the last name on the board.

SHAN YUN.

Daud gasped, high and sharp, and broke into a smile. Then, he quickly cleared his throat and regained his composure. “I like his… songs.”

Billie’s mouth quirked up in a half-smile. “Are you a fan?”

“He’s the Boreal Songbird, Billie!”

Ceòl snapped his fingers to grab their attention. “He’s our best shot. He owns one property in Karnaca with one safe on the upper level. Unfortunately, he rarely leaves his home now that he’s sequestered himself for a ‘creative rejuvenation’. But his employee rosters are very predictable— at any given time there are half a dozen guards and half a dozen staff on duty. Getting to the safe unseen won’t be easy, but at least we know where it is and what the security is like.”

“He’s not totally sequestered though,” Billie chimed in. “He may not be _seen_ leaving his house, but he does leave.”

That was news to him.

Billie chuckled. “Ah, something I know that you don’t.” She pinned a map of Upper Cyria to the board. “Shan Yun lives next door to the Specter Club. I’ve never been upstairs, but I know he’s a regular because he built a walkway connecting the top level of his house to the Infusion Lounge.” She scoffed. “Void forbid he have to walk among the rabble gathered at the bar downstairs.”

“Interesting.” Ceòl thumbed his chin. “Then getting inside his house will be easier than I thought.”

“But still not _easy_ ,” Corvo said. “The walkway is sure to be guarded at one side, maybe both. And we might not be able to get back out of the manor the same way. And are we sure he’s keeping it in his safe?”

“I’m positive,” Ceòl said. “I’ve seen Michaels and Jacobi hide theirs in various places in different realities, but Shan Yun always keeps his in that manor house. Every time. It’s there.”

Before Ceòl could lay out his ideas for their plan of action, Daud rose from his chair and shuffled over to the table. Ceòl watched Corvo carefully, half afraid he’d lash out at the sickly man, but he restrained himself and allowed Daud to pull up a stool.

Daud cracked his knees before he took a seat. “Do we absolutely _have_ to get these devices to reach the Ascended? What happens if we try to barrel through this magic field? There’s gotta be carriage lines up to the quarry.” He flexed his left hand. “And if not, can my or Corvo’s powers get us through?”

Ceòl pulled a stool up to the table and sat with everyone. “The carriage lines have all been destroyed by the Ascended. And the Mark won’t help you. The magic near the mountain isn’t something you can fight and it’s origins are older than I am.”

“What does that mean?” Daud asked, irritated. “What _exactly_ will happen if we try on our own?”

“Everyone who wanders too close to Shindaerey Peak becomes… confused. Too deep into the distortions, their mind detaches from their body. They fall prey to predators or the elements while they dissociate in the forest. I could draw you a map to the quarry, but it would be useless to you as soon as you were caught within the mountain’s pull. You’d wander around, not even having the wherewithal to read it.”

Daud went still. “You said it feels like your mind detaches from your body?”

“Yes,” Ceòl said. “Why do you ask?”

“The Eyeless kept me prisoner for months in some weird cage. That’s exactly what it felt like when they had the power cranked up.”

Ceòl lifted his hand to his mouth. That wasn’t good.

“What’s that look for?” Billie asked. “Hey! What do you know about it, Outsider?”

“Calm down,” Corvo growled.

Ceòl pursed his lips and answered. “Years ago, the Ascended tried to study the field that protects their quarry. They did an admirable job replicating its effects on the mind.”

Corvo finished the thought aloud. “And used what they learned to keep Daud prisoner?”

He nodded. “They never intended it to be used as an incarceration device. They were trying to expand their knowledge about how the mind connects to the Void. But that experiment killed three of the members, and dramatically shortened the lives of several more. The project was shelved, last I saw.”

Billie clenched her hand at her side. “Well they dusted it off for Daud,” she hissed. “You said that thing killed three people?” She began to pace. “How bad is it? What’s wrong with him?”

Ceòl wrung his hands. “Short bursts of exposure to those energies, if followed by immediate treatment, aren’t life-threatening. But exposure that lasted months…”

“I was in that thing too long.” Daud hung his head.

“Bullshit,” Billie snarled. “If the _Outsider_ is sitting in my cargo hold, there has to be some cure for whatever’s wrong with him.”

There was. But this civilization was centuries away from being able to create it. Even with all of his knowledge, he couldn’t do what was needed with the resources available.

“It isn’t that simple,” Ceòl tried to explain.

“Billie, it’s nothing I didn’t already know.” Daud looked to him. “I’m dying, aren’t I?”

“Yes.”

Ceòl took a moment to study the man. Such potential, and most of it wasted year after year. The more power and wealth Daud accumulated with the use of his gifts, the less interesting he had become. But now, he was booming something… different. For the first time in years, changing.

Daud cleared his throat. “Well then, I guess we’d better not waste time. Let’s plan a robbery.”

* * *

Daud sighed and lit a cigarette while he watched the commotion across the deck. 

The fancy skiff from the Grand Palace wouldn’t crank when Corvo tried to leave after their planning session. Billie lowered her skiff from its spot on the lift and raised Corvo’s up to the deck to find the problem.

Daud hoped she could repair it. And soon.

He watched the Outsider reach over to point out the problem and Billie smacked him away. Billie liked to fix things, even if she wasn’t totally sure how at first. She enjoyed getting her hands— hand, he reminded himself darkly— on new equipment and figure it out. Normally Daud had no problem with that, but he needed their guests to leave.

Every moment Corvo was here felt like razors in his gut. The words repeated on a loop in Daud’s head, and with each repetition his mood grew darker. _“I froze.”_

As unlikely as being granted mercy by his victim had seemed, the only thing more unlikely was that Corvo Attano— famed swordsman, Royal Protector, righteous assassin— had choked. So, over the last fifteen years, Daud had been forced to reconcile everything he’d done with the apparent second chance he’d been granted. But now…

Daud always wondered why Corvo let him live. It had made no sense. And now it did. The revelation was gut-wrenching but not surprising.

What had taken him by surprise today was the appearance of a familiar face in an unfamiliar form.

Daud leaned back against the railing, eyes glued to “Ceòl.” The black-eyed bastard was human now. And not just any human! He was in line to become the Royal Spymaster! Seems he’d stepped into a cushy life in Dunwall Tower the instant his feet hit the ground. He was probably sleeping on silk sheets every night and drinking Tyvian red from silver goblets.

Daud wondered if he planned it that way.

Whenever the Outsider used to get disappointed in Daud, he’d drone on about all the consequences of his bad choices that’d come hurtling his way in the end. Maybe the Outsider saw his own end on the horizon and made a few choices of his own— ones that resulted in a posh mortal life, courtesy of Corvo Attano.

Daud’s eyes widened when Corvo slid his hand across Ceòl’s backside. It was subtle, nothing that lingered, but unmistakably possessive.

Maybe this relationship wasn’t just the product of the Outsider’s clever manipulations. Could be Corvo was the type of man who liked to up the ante. And where do you go after an affair with the Empress? An affair with a god, apparently. Perhaps Corvo had been the one to turn on the charm. But did that happen before or after the Outsider’s eyes changed?

Ceòl looked over his shoulder and made eye contact with him from across the deck. Then he whispered something into Corvo’s ear and sauntered over. He projected the kind of quiet confidence that made it seem like he knew every secret in the world. Which he probably did.

“So, you two are…?” Daud flicked his eyes to Corvo and back to Ceòl.

“We’ve been together for a decade.” He paused. “On and off.”

Daud had so many questions. But instead, he observed, “My powers still work.”

He flexed his hand and felt the Void creep underneath his skin. That tingle used to feel like rejuvenation, as if life itself was flooding into him. Now, it felt like a pat on the head, soothing but useless.

“And they will for some time. The Void will need a new god eventually, but it will get by without one. For now.”

“A new god? Not it’s old one?”

“That won’t be possible now.”

The enormity of that statement sank in. The Void was godless. As much as Daud never liked the Outsider, the presence of something bigger in the cosmos was a kind of reassurance. At least someone had a hand on the carriage controls, even if that wasn’t someone you could trust not to take the car off the tracks.

“Why’d you ask me to go after the knife? Why not your favorite errand boy?”

“I didn’t want to risk Corvo’s life.”

Daud stared at the wisps of cigarette smoke curling around his fingers. “But still, you trusted me with it. What if I’d figured out what the knife was for and decided to use it myself?”

Ceòl leaned into Daud’s field of vision. “And what do you _think_ the knife was for, Daud?”

“Didn’t take a natural philosopher to figure out. You were so spooked when you asked me to find it, you didn’t even bother playing _games_ with me. Which meant it was dangerous.” Daud maintained eye contact and slowly exhaled smoke in Ceòl’s face. “To you.”

Ceòl wrinkled his nose but didn’t move.

Daud smirked. “Below deck, you said that knife didn’t turn you human, but you never said it had _nothing_ to do with how that happened. Billie told me you were a ‘captive’ who faked your death and escaped the cult. So, assuming there was some truth to that story, my guess is the cult used the knife against you, but you survived. Then you lounged around Dunwall Tower for months as an ‘apprentice’ telling Corvo to leave the cult alone.” Daud shrugged. “You were laying low because the Ascended think they killed you.”

“But the moment they try to kidnap this woman you’re friends with, suddenly you and Corvo are off your asses and eager to make the world safer.” Daud smirked. “You just said the Void will need a new god eventually. So I figure the knife is to kill gods, and maybe create them too.”

The way Ceòl’s mouth hung open told him he was right. Ha! Daud chuckled deep in his chest, until the vibrations turned into a gritty cough that wracked his body so hard he dropped his cigarette on the deck. He turned his head and hacked into his fist until his eyes watered.

By the time his lungs stopped twitching, the astonishment on Ceòl’s face had turned to sympathy and Daud’s moment of intellectual victory felt wasted.

“Would you have done it?” Ceòl leaned in close, nearly nose-to-nose. “Turned the knife on me?”

Few men were brave enough to get this close to the infamous Daud, even as poor a specimen as he was now. He briefly considered giving the brat a swat on the nose. Nothing hard. Just a lesson in manners. But Corvo was watching them across the deck and from what Daud had seen so far, Corvo was wrapped real tight around Ceòl’s little finger. So he held back.

“No,” Daud replied.

Ceòl relaxed his shoulders. “You don’t blame me for the way your life has turned out? The ‘black-eyed bastard’ who gave you all that power, knowing you’d probably abuse it?” Then he added, softer, “The selfish spirit who sent you on a dangerous mission that went so badly for you?”

Daud leaned down and picked up his cigarette, placing the dirty butt to his lips. He took a long drag until the embers nearly burned the tips of his fingers. How many precious seconds of life was this cigarette costing him, he wondered. He held the smoke in his lungs to make the most of it. Once his chest started to burn, he exhaled and flicked the remaining cigarette fragment into the water.

“I used to curse you for everything, especially those early years on the run. Fuck, I hated you.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and took a long look at the Outsider. At _Ceòl_. No matter what color they were now, those eyes had watched Daud most of his life. This man had seen his failures and triumphs, his acts of kindness and cruelty. As cryptic as he’d always been, Daud realized over the years that the Outsider never once demanded anything from him. He only ever pointed Daud in a certain direction to see which path he’d choose.

“I didn’t have to go after the knife, you know. I could’ve told you to fuck off. And I didn’t have to do the things I did in Dunwall. You gave me the power to do anything I wanted. But…” Daud paused as he fought another coughing fit. “I wanted to do those things. That was all me. So, no. I wouldn’t have turned the knife on you. Maybe I would’ve years ago, when I was angry and stupid. But now…”

“Now you’re not angry?”

Daud chuckled despite himself.

They stared out at the water as the sun rose to its peak and shortened the shadows of the mountains over the harbor.

“I can compound some medicines to help with the worst symptoms,” Ceòl said, almost as an aside. “It won’t stop the inevitable, but it can make your last year or so more comfortable.”

Daud was shocked he had that long. Sometimes it felt like the Void was going take him any day now. If he had as much as a year left and already felt this bad…

“Sure.” His hand twitched for another cigarette but he stopped himself. “Or maybe just hook me back up to that machine. Let my mind drift away from the pain.”

“Speaking of your captivity…” Ceòl said. “How much did you tell them?”

His voice was almost a whisper, and it didn’t escape Daud’s notice that he angled his head to minimize echo off the water. He didn’t want Corvo to hear.

When Daud didn’t answer, Ceòl whispered again. “I’m no fool. If the Eyeless went to the trouble of keeping you prisoner, it was because they wanted information.” Ceòl inched closer. “I’m not angry, not that you’d care if I was. But I need to know what you told them, for my safety and Corvo’s.”

Daud kept his gaze on the water. “I didn’t tell them a damn thing.”

Ceòl seemed to take that in, his face blank. After a moment he asked, “Why not?”

Daud shrugged. “Spite, mostly.” He coughed into his shoulder. “Plus, I figured giving a bunch of zealots information about the Void was a bad idea. I had my reasons. Don’t think I’m sentimental.”

Ceòl smiled. “I’d never.”

Across the deck, the engine of the Duke’s skiff sputtered to life and Corvo whistled to get Ceòl’s attention.

“I suppose I’ll be going.” But Ceòl paused after a few steps and turned around. “Daud, what was the ‘condition’ Corvo asked of you? It had to be more than just ‘clearing the air’ below deck.”

Daud narrowed his eyes. “He didn’t tell you?”

Ceòl shook his head.

“Then I guess it’s not your business.”

“Fair enough.”

Daud watched carefully as Corvo helped Ceòl into the skiff. His hands lingered on the former god like he was something precious. He murmured to Ceòl, who replied with a gentle shake of his head and a smile. And a flush in his cheeks!

Apparently Corvo wasn’t the only one smitten.

The skiff motored due west and Daud offered Billie a cigarette when she came to stand beside him and watch the craft disappear.

“So,” Billie finally said, “are we really doing this?”

“You having second thoughts?”

“No. I need to get out of this crazy gang without getting killed. And Cecelia is a good person. I want to protect her. The Ascended and the Eyeless have got to go.” She pursed the cigarette between her lips and leaned towards the match flame Daud held out. “I mean, are _you_ doing this? If you don’t have a lot of time left, I’d understand if you wanted to sit this one out.”

Daud huffed. “And do what? Write my memoirs? No. You were right when you rescued me, Billie. We need to do something with our lives. I only have so long to try and make things right, so I’m gonna.”

And once he was done in Karnaca, he’d face the reckoning he’d run from for fifteen years. Something unclenched in his chest— an old tension he’d lived with for so long, Daud almost forgot there was a time he’d lived without it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know in canon it’s called the “Spector Club”… but I think it makes more sense to be called “Specter” (considering what goes on there). It’s also possible that it was supposed to be called Specter Club and the writers spelled it wrong. There were a ton of typos in the game. :/ “Shindaerey” is spelled three different ways in DotO. Anyway, regardless of canon, I chose to spell it my way. Just like I chose to rename the Cult of the Outsider as the Ascended because I like it better.


	15. Chapter 15

The view from their room at the Grand Palace was breathtaking. Corvo breathed in the aroma of morning coffee as he and Ceòl sat at the small breakfast table on the balcony. The mid-morning sun glistened on the shifting water like jewels shimmering from the shore to the horizon. The mountains to the west funneled a cool breeze over the city, and the soft wind tickled his cheeks. 

The scene should have inspired a letter full of flowery prose, but the pen in Corvo’s hand hadn’t moved in half an hour.

“You’ve been staring at a blank page since breakfast ended,” Ceòl said.

He tapped his foot against Corvo’s boot beneath table, even as he never looked away from his own work. Unlike Corvo, Ceòl’s pen flew across the pages of Volume 3, as he laid out a thoughtful analysis of the Empire at large and tied it into the social system theories from the last volume. 

Corvo sighed and put the pen down. “What do I tell her?”

“I’d advise ‘the truth’ for the sake of your relationship with her. But if Emily sends mercenaries to take Daud, it will draw a lot of unwanted attention. So…”

Corvo raised the pen again. He swore to tell Emily everything he found out about Daud. But he also never got a firm promise from her about showing restraint if he asked for it. And Ceòl was right. If Emily sent a company of sell swords to Karnaca, even if Daud went with them quietly, there were any number of ways things could go badly. They had to maintain a low profile and act natural until they had what the needed.

“The courier needs to take delivery before three o’clock if you want it to go out on a ship today.” Ceòl drummed his fingers against the table and furrowed his brow. “Why haven’t you people developed electronic communications? Sokolov was close to a breakthrough before the plague. After the cure was finished I thought he’d pick it up again, but he never did. An no one else attempted to continue his work.”

“You mean those visual communicators Burrows installed at the Tower?” Corvo snorted a laugh. ”They only worked half the time and couldn’t travel more than few hundred yards. Now, if I had one that could reach Dunwall from here, that’d be something.”

“He was close to figuring it out,” Ceòl lamented. “If Sokolov had put down his brandy snifter for five minutes, we wouldn’t have to rely on written messages delivered by boat.” Corvo watched Ceòl trace his fingers along the pages he’d filled with so much history and knowledge. “I’ll have to physically ship these volumes to Dunwall. If they get lost or damaged in transit…”

Corvo smiled fondly. “I’m sorry you’re being forced to live like an animal.”

Ceòl lowered his eyes. “I’m whining. It’s just…”

Corvo reached across the table to clasp his hand. “If Sokolov was close to a breakthrough, you could finish what he started. Just say you stumbled upon the solution in some of his old notes in the Tower library.”

“I can see the headline now: ‘Young nobody perfects abandoned Sokolov technology!’ I’m sure that wouldn’t arouse any suspicions.”

And even though Ceòl’s forged documents were perfect, it wouldn’t take journalists long to realize there were no corresponding copies anywhere in Tyvia. To create an identity that would pass an investigator’s scrutiny, Corvo needed to plant identity records in the Tyvian Census Office and create a paper trail going back to Ceòl’s birth. That wouldn’t be easy.

He sighed. The life of a spymaster was full of deception and forgery. But when it came to the people who mattered, honesty was nonnegotiable.

Corvo turned his attention back to the blank paper in front of him and made a decision.

He composed a flowery description of Karnaca’s sights and sounds, the relative peace of their journey, accommodations at the Grand Palace, and other pleasantries. Hidden within the text, his coded message read:

DAUD IN KARNACA. NEED HIM ALIVE. DO NOT APPROACH. PLEASE TRUST ME.

Corvo sealed the letter and handed it to the courier before noon.

He hoped Emily would listen.

* * *

Michaels’ Savings and Loan towered over the small residential plaza, gleaming and white. Banners welcomed new clients up the polished staircase, plush carpet muffled footsteps in the grand lobby, and a smiling Vesper Bristow— the bank’s “liaison to the crown”— met Corvo’s arrival with a deep bow.

“Welcome, Lord Attano!” he announced. His voice echoed off the marble columns and nearby patrons whispered furiously.

“So much for keeping my visit low profile,” he sighed.

Bristow paled and began stammering a hasty apology, but Corvo waved him off.

“Before we begin, I’d like a tour.”

The bank’s security was everything he’d feared and more: Walls of light, double chambered doors, electric locks, guarded posts around every corner. To make matters worse, the guards appeared very sharp. He recognized the Security Chief as a former captain in the Grand Guard. Peña was known for being a stickler for protocol and Corvo doubted any of the guards who’d been trained by him would be caught sleeping at their post or writing passcodes on a chalkboard.

As Bristow showed him offices, conference rooms, and safe-deposit boxes, Corvo periodically shifted his vision to peer through walls. Michaels would probably keep her gift from the cult in a safe, but that wasn’t a guarantee. Sometimes a less secure but less obvious hiding place was better. For all he knew, she could be keeping it in plain sight on her desk like a tchotchke!

He chuckled at the thought of anyone being so bold.

The tour ended on the fourth floor: Dolores Michaels’ office. The bank director rose from her wide desk and greeted him with a polite nod and an extended left hand.

He heard Bristow gasp at the lack of decorum from his employer, but Corvo simply smiled and gripped her hand with his wrapped one.

“A pleasure to finally meet you,” she said. She waved to the table in the center of the room and dismissed Bristow with a nod. “Please, have a seat and we can get down to business.”

Michaels began a standard lecture about her investment strategies, steady long-term growth over risky short-term gains, etc. She volunteered all the necessary documents to demonstrate financial transparency without hesitation. Michaels was smart. If a forensic accountant were to examine her records, everything would appear above board. But no institution saw such steady year-over-year growth through the means she described.

Corvo nodded as she spoke, took dutiful notes, and asked a few intelligent questions. He’d have been offended by the surprise in her eyes if Ceòl hadn’t been the one who coached him on what to say during this meeting.

“I’m not trying to interrogate you, Ms. Michaels,” he said. “But the Empress can’t afford _any_ scandals. If she’s going to invest her personal funds with you, she needs to know that her money will be safe, see reasonable returns, and that your bank’s dealings are all within the confines of the law.”

“I understand completely.” She took a portfolio from her stack of documents and began telling him about how those recent surges in the Morlian exchanges had benefited her clients’ accounts.

While she was distracted, Corvo took the opportunity to look around her office.

Then he saw it! At the other end of the room sat the famous Michaels’ Vault.

Corvo adjusted his vision and looked inside. It contained several safes, each with bars of precious metal, coin, gems, and various personal items. He leaned forward, trying to appear casual, as another item caught his attention. A strange object sat in the center safe— a raised metal pedestal with mechanical base, supporting a thick glass cylinder with a chunk of stone inside. Just like Ceòl described! Michaels had her device in the vault!

“Would you like to see it?” Michaels asked.

Corvo startled and returned his focus to her.

Michaels wore a serene smile. “The vault, I mean. I saw you staring.”

He chuckled. “Guilty. I’ve heard a lot about this thing.”

She rose from her seat and waved him over. “One of a kind. Designed and installed by Kirin Jindosh before his horrible treason was brought to light.”

Corvo hummed. “A brilliant man. But troubled.”

“And rightfully paying for his crimes against Her Majesty,” Michaels said with a lift of her chin.

She was laying it on a little thick, but Corvo kept her talking.

“I’ve heard this vault is totally impenetrable.” Corvo paced from one side to the other. Its circular frame fit snugly into a custom elevator shaft. “You can move it to safety if there’s some sign of intrusion?”

“Oh yes. And the lock cannot be picked. I won’t reveal how, of course.”

“Of course.” He peered up through the ceiling. “I wonder. Could a thief simply knock it down?”

She chuckled. “A thief could try. But it wouldn’t be that simple.” Michaels paused. “Is Her Majesty interested in a vault safe?”

“Possibly. She has some personal items she’d like stored away from the Tower.”

“I imagine she’d also like her money stored safely outside of Gristol’s banking institutions in case of political unrest.” Michaels’ smile was sharp, but she held her hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I know I’m being blunt, but she’s a smart young woman to be thinking about these things. I’m glad you’ve come to me.” She sauntered back to the table. “Let’s talk numbers. All of the vault safes are currently under contract, but if Her Majesty were to invest a substantial enough sum, I could find some room for her property.”

Corvo followed her back to the table and considered his options. The vault was impressive. Getting in wouldn’t be easy and getting the device out of here unnoticed would be even harder. With Jindosh still in jail, Corvo could probably write to him and leverage the promise of extra privileges for information about his creation. But that would take time they didn’t have. And even if Jindosh was willing to help him break into the thing, Corvo would still need to break out of the bank itself once he had it.

No. Robbing Michaels would be their last resort. Shan Yun was a much easier target and Ceòl said they’d only need one device to ascend Shindaerey. He just had to keep Michaels busy for another hour or two.

By the time he left this meeting, Billie would have Shan Yun’s device. Then, they’d be able to pay the Ascended a visit.

* * *

Ceòl and Billie stood around the corner from the Specter Club. They’d only have one shot at this. 

“My appointment to try the Sanguine Infusion is in half an hour, and now you’re telling me not to go through with it?” Billie huffed. “That’ll look suspicious. I can handle one disgusting drink, even if it is actually made from…”

Ceòl shuddered. “The blood of the dying. And it’s not made from their blood. It is their blood.”

He sighed and looked to the upper level of the club. He kept this part a secret for a reason. If Corvo knew what was happening in there, he’d jump into action. As he should! But that would ruin their cover and the Eyeless would increase security.

Billie waved her hand in front of his face. “What do you mean ‘it is their blood’?”

“When people partake of an Infusion, they are…” He tapped the vein in the crease of his elbow.

“Literally infused?” Billie nearly gagged. “I thought it had to do with how the drink was prepared! Are you telling me the people who get this done are hooked up to a person and…”

Ceòl felt a small tug of empathy, unfamiliar and painful. He pushed it down.

“And for now, we have to let them. But once we take care of the Ascended and scatter the Eyeless, the murders will stop.”

“So what am I supposed to do when I get up there?”

“You’ll use this.” Ceòl handed her a narrow piece of bone a few inches long.

He watched as she ran her thumb experimentally across the smooth shaft. Most bone charms were covered with inscriptions from their crafters— placebos to help the magic user focus and reinforce their own belief in the power of their work. But Ceòl didn’t need that, and the charm he’d crafted for Billie was totally blank.

It had taken Ceòl nearly six hours to create this latent charm. The magic within lay dormant, and needed a small spark in order to flare to life. Until then, no one would know it was anything more than an ordinary sliver of bone. Even an Abbey Overseer wouldn’t give it a second glance.

“They’ll seat you in a small alcove. On the other side of that wall is…”

“Some poor bastard about to be bled to death.” Billie cast a glare towards the club.

“Yes. So when they put the needle in your arm, hold this in your hand. Squeeze it and focus. Imagine cracks, stress fractures in a sword, or brittle metal. It will do the rest.”

“What exactly does it do?” Billie asked.

“The blood pump relies on a small copper mechanism to function. Once you’ve activated this charm, any copper nearby will become brittle and fracture. It has a limited range, so make sure you wait until you’re seated to use it. This way, the machine’s failure will look like an accident and you can use the distraction to slip across the walkway.”

“The charm isn’t working right now? I have to turn it on?”

Ceòl nodded. “It will work once, and only for a few minutes. After that, goes cold. And if the Eyeless search you…”

“It won’t incriminate me. Clever.” She furrowed her brow. “Will destroying the pump mechanism save whoever’s in there?”

“For now.” Ceòl hung his head. “But it’ll only take a few weeks for the replacement part to come in.”

“Better than nothing. And hopefully the Eyeless will be on the run by then.” Billie spun the thin piece of bone in her hand. “I didn’t know charms could be made with an on/off switch.”

“It isn’t easy. I still have a headache.”

“You’re sure you’re up to your part in this? If I can’t get back over the walkway, I’ll have to come out through the manor.”

Ceòl strummed the small Serkonan guitar she’d loaned him. “I can be very distracting.”

Corvo agreed to let Ceòl be Billie’s distraction under the condition that he did something that wouldn’t get him arrested or assaulted by the Grand Guard. So, today he was posing as a street musician outside Shan Yun’s home. He’d even visited local thrift shop for some appropriate clothing. The shirt and pants were clean and pressed, but worn thin. He looked the part of a struggling musician.

The guards were under orders to keep the area “free of creative disruptions.” Once he began playing, the guards should simply force him to move along rather than dole out a beating.

Hopefully.

Billie assured him she could crack any safe ever designed and Ceòl didn’t doubt her. But she’d still have to contend with Shan Yun’s guards, an unknown amount time to work, and no clear escape route.

If Billie was caught inside, or seen coming out, her only hope was to play the part of an obsessed fan. It wasn’t uncommon for people to camp outside Yun’s home, hoping to catch a glimpse of him or hear his voice through an open window. But actual break-ins were prosecutable.

Daud offered to come along and clear a path through the house, but a pile of bodies— even just unconscious ones— would sound the alarm after they left with their prize. If Billie could crack and re-lock the safe unnoticed, Shan Yun might not realize his device was missing for days, which would give them a much needed head start. Plus, Billie didn’t want Daud anywhere near the people who’d tortured him, so he’d agreed to stay on the ship and rest.

Corvo didn’t want Ceòl near the Eyeless either, but he’d insisted on helping with Billie’s escape. The Eyeless didn’t know his face, so no one would give him a second glance when he created his distraction outside.

Ceòl strummed the guitar again. He’d have to make sure all eyes were on him when Billie made her hasty exit, so he’d walk a fine line between resisting the guards orders and pissing them off.

He took up position on a bench at the street and watched Billie enter the club. When the clock struck 1:00 he saw a cloaked figure enter the walkway from the manor house and stride towards the Infusion Lounge.

Shan Yun was right on time for his appointment. And now his office was empty.

A minute passed. Then another. Ceòl’s heart tapped steadily behind his ribs.

The charm would work. He knew it would. He’d tested an identical version on several of the Grand Palace’s appliances to be sure. But Billie’s mental focus would be the key to activating its power and if her concentration faltered…

Ceòl’s eyes snapped to another figure darting across the walkway from the direction of the club. Billie slipped inside the manor like a ghost.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Now, all he had to do was wait an appropriate amount of time for her to crack the safe and find a way out.

He cleared his throat and sauntered to the low wall around the perimeter of the house. His long fingers strummed the instrument, palms sticky with sweat in the mid-day sun. Ceòl counted the guards. Two at the entrance. Another patrolling the street. One more around the side of the building on a smoke break. But he couldn’t do anything about the ones inside the house. They’d be Billie’s problem.

He strummed a chord to hear how the notes reverberated off of the plaster and concrete. The alley underneath the walkway looked like it could be acoustically interesting. Could he amplify the sound if he got the angle right?

He continued his warm up. His fingers found one chord and he hummed in tune. Then Ceòl scooted down the wall a few feet for a better angle down the alley. He strummed again and got exactly what he wanted! The notes echoed off the walls, bouncing in the narrow space and coming back as a wave of sound.

One of the guards by the door cut his eyes towards Ceòl’s seat on the wall but didn’t move from his post.

Ceòl tested another chord and hummed along. Then another. Both guards glanced his way.

He’d prepared a short list of ballads, pub songs and Karnacan classics. But as the time to begin playing approached, Ceòl wondered if those would be enough. The guards knew those songs already. He could encourage nearby people to sing along, or even make a loud fool of himself to draw attention. But to truly distract these people they needed to hear something new.

He quickly retuned the guitar. When Ceòl began to play, the deep tones reverberated down the alley and back exactly as he’d expected.

Both guards snapped their focus towards him, as did a few passersby.

Ceòl took a breath and let his fingers find their own way. He softened his eyes and relaxed his shoulders, exuding all the confidence he could fake.

He hadn’t felt any sort of confident last night. Even after he succeeded in crafting the special charm for Billie, Ceòl spent the evening fretting about every part of the heist that might go wrong. Unable to see all the possibilities now, the best he could do was guess.

Guess! Like everyone else, he was stumbling through the dark. He was mortal. He shook apart on top of silk sheets, drowning in the overwhelming smallness of his new mind.

Then Corvo was at his side, bringing calm to the storm.

 

_When echoes clash and lightning crashes over land and sea_

_Obscuring all the paths ahead until you come for me_

 

He thought of Corvo’s hands on him. The way those rough palms slid over his body calmed his panic like a figure of legend parting storm clouds with a gesture and a word.

 

_A calloused hand in tresses pressed, grip tight and guiding_

 

He could almost hear the low moans Corvo made as they gave each other pleasure.

 

_A wave of silence as a bird of prey begins to sing_

And all the worry melted away when Corvo’s deep baritone washed over him.

 

_A remedy for all it please, cracked voices harmony_

_A wave of silence as the bird of prey does sing for me_

 

There was usually a short pause for breath as they took each other in. They both lingered in the moment, high on each other but not lost to it yet.

Their rhythm of the song built, growing deeper and faster the way their love making usually did.

 

_Since the hymn began, I feel clarity!_

_Finding meaning now in the soft rhythm of your song to me_

 

And then, the crescendo. Ceòl’s heels tapped the wall as the tempo built.

 

_Once again we dive from cliffs of ebony!_

_Feel the truth revealed in the quiet gasps of your song to me_

 

A breathless release.

 

Usually when Ceòl opened his eyes after that kind of emotional climax there wasn’t a crowd.

The applause began slow, then spread throughout the gathered people. Guards included! When had they left their posts? A few people whistled and cheered.

Ceòl felt his cheeks grow warm. Operation Create-A-Scene was a success! And the guards weren’t even angry!

At the edge of he crowd a broad-shouldered Tyvian descended the stairs from the Specter Club, hands thundering together in wild applause.

Ceòl’s jaw dropped. Oh no. What was _he_ doing outside?

The people gasped. Some scrambled to let him through, while a few clamored for his attention or an autograph. But Shan Yun ignored every person in the crowd and made a beeline for Ceòl!

“I heard your voice echoing within the walkway,” Yun began. “It’s been years since music grabbed me by the lapels and demanded my full attention.”

The crowd chattered wildly, fingers pointing to Shan Yun and Ceòl. That the opera singer was seen outside at all would make the gossip columns, but this…

Ceòl’s job was to make some noise and draw the guards away from their posts. He wasn’t supposed to lure their robbery target into the open for the first time in months!

Precious moments ticked by as Ceòl panicked. What was he supposed to do?! Had Billie gotten out of the house yet? If she needed further distraction, here it was! All eyes were on Shan Yun and the young man who’d just _serenaded_ him out of hiding.

“You’re speechless, I see,” Yun chuckled.

Right. Speechless. Because Shan Yun was famous and he was… a fan? Ceòl let his mouth hang open and his eyes go wide.

“Shan Yun,” he whispered, breathless.

“Where did you learn to play like that?” Yun bit his lip as he eyed Ceòl. “And your voice, it’s like smoke drifting over the surface of a still lake.”

“I’m self-taught, sir.” He swallowed. “And my voice has always been…”

“Astounding.”

People in the crowd whispered and fidgeted with excitement.

“I have plans with a friend later this afternoon. But I _must_ see you again.” Yun’s eyes were bright and his hands insistent as they gripped Ceòl’s forearms. “Can you come back tomorrow? Around noon?”

Ceòl did his best impression of a starstruck opera enthusiast. He wetted his lips and quickened his breathing. “Of course,” he said softly, then lifted a hand to his cheek.

The gathered people oohh-ed and aww-ed, but the rushing blood in Ceòl’s ears drowned out their cheerful congratulations. This was not the plan!

Around he corner, a Morlian gull call sounded. Billie was clear! He waited until Shan Yun retreated back inside the club, and then scurried off towards the side street where he’d heard Billie’s signal. He found her leaning against the wall.

“Quite a performance,” she chuckled.

“Thank you. I thought something original might be more distracting.”

Billie snorted. “I wasn’t talking about the music. But it’s a good thing you’ve got an invitation inside that house tomorrow. Because…”

He looked around for the bulky device that should have been at her feet. His stomach dropped. “You didn’t get it?”

She shook her head. “He has a new safe, just installed. Brand new technology that only unlocks with a voice activated passcode.”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.” Billie put a cigarette in her mouth, then struck a match against the brick wall to light it. “I tried every trick I knew, but there were countermeasures for everything. You’re going to have to take him up on his offer. Plus, if you _didn’t_ show up tomorrow it’d look suspicious, and we can’t let him get suspicious until we have what we need. Right?”

Ceòl rubbed a hand over his face. “Right.”

* * *

Once Corvo’s meeting with Michaels ended, he met Ceòl at a ritzy cafe in Upper Aventa he’d always wanted to try. The establishment offered them a private booth with a view of the city. 

Once the serving staff were well away, Ceòl filled him in.

“I didn’t mean to be so alluring,” he pouted.

“And we have no idea what password opens the safe?”

Ceòl tore his sweetbread to bits with his fingers. “No.”

“If we figure out what the password is, will the safe recognize any voice that speaks it or does it have to be Shan Yun?”

“I don’t know. I’ll get a look at the safe tomorrow and hopefully see something that Billie didn’t.”

Corvo reached for his hand and gave a gentle squeeze before puling back. “Should we rob the bank instead? I know where Michaels is keeping her device.”

Ceòl’s eyes snapped to his. “Absolutely not! A bank job is too risky. I already accepted Shan Yun’s invitation, so let me use it. If I can sneak away from him, I might be able to—”

“To what? Randomly recite words into a microphone and hope to get lucky?” He whispered, “I have meetings at the bank all week. I’m being very thorough in researching Emily’s ‘future investment accounts’, after all. I’ll have opportunities to case the vault.”

“Opportunities to get killed,” Ceòl hissed. His cheeks quivered. “Don’t you dare.”

His intensity shocked Corvo. He risked a look around and squeezed Ceòl’s hand. “Alright. I won’t do it.”

Ceòl squeezed back and then sighed. “If you get yourself killed, I’ll loose my source of artistic inspiration.”

“What?”

“The song that lured Shan Yun out of the club… was about our sex life.”

Corvo choked on his tea.

* * *

Ceòl wanted to run an errand after their tea. And so, Corvo found himself walking along the canal that ran through Campo Seta. Most people were polite enough not make a big deal about it. Most. 

“I spy… Corvo Attano!”a tiny voice cried.

Corvo spun around to face a little girl playing the area’s most popular children’s game. Ever since he walked among them without being noticed, the local children came up with a game where they’d accuse strangers of being Corvo Attano in disguise.

He crouched to meet her eyes and snapped his fingers. “You got me! Good eye!”

She giggled along with a group of children. “I told you! I told you!” She turned back to him. “Your disguise isn’t very good this time.”

“Oh? I changed my hair from last time! It’s long again. You really weren’t fooled?”

She shook her head. “Your clothes are too fancy. Next time, dress like a miner.”

“Or a pirate!” one of the children shouted.

“Or a beggar!”

“A guardsman!”

He chuckled. “All good suggestions. And I’ll take them into consideration.”

The children dispersed, laughing.

When he turned back to Ceòl, his lover had a thoughtful look and a flush to his cheeks. “You’re good with children,” he said softly.

They turned the corner and entered the community clinic.

“Corvo!” Hypatia greeted him with open arms in the lobby.

“Dr. Hypatia,” he said, and accepted the warm embrace. “The clinics look wonderful. I’ve heard there are three of them in Karnaca alone!”

“And half a dozen more across Serkonos,” she beamed.

Hypatia guided them into the back room where she had a small office and research lab. It wasn’t as grand as her accommodations at Addermire, but ever since the Duke’s manipulations she’d refused to operate out of that place.

“To what do I owe the visit?” she asked.

“We were wondering if we could use your laboratory to mix some medicines,” Corvo said. “Or rather, Ceòl would be the one mixing.”

Hypatia turned to Ceòl. “Are you a licensed alchemist? Legally, I can’t allow an amateur to use my equipment if you intend to distribute remedies.”

“I’m self-taught. But perhaps you could supervise me,” Ceòl suggested. “I have a friend with a terminal condition. I know a few unconventional formulas, and I’d like to relieve some of his suffering.”

Corvo clenched this jaw, hearing Ceòl refer to Daud as a “friend.”

Hypatia’s shoulders softened. “We offer free consultations if you’d like him to be seen.”

Ceòl shook his head. “His condition is too advanced, I’m afraid. Palliative care is all anyone can do.”

Hypatia looked to Corvo, maybe wanting to confirm his story. “The medicines Ceòl wants to mix are a bit unorthodox, which is why we came here rather than a pharmacy. We’ll pay for the ingredients of course.”

“I’m happy to help. But I will need to supervise.”

“I understand,” Ceòl said.

Corvo stayed out of the way while Ceòl and Hypatia discussed breathing treatments, enzymes in the liver, kidney function and a lot of things that were over his head. Ceòl seemed to know exactly what was wrong with Daud and how his illness would progress.

What did that machine from the Ascended do to him? And if it replicated the forces surrounding their quarry hideout, it just confirmed that the journey was too risky to make without one of the special devices to counteract the effects.

“You can’t mix those two,” he heard Hypatia say. “Individually they’ll reduce inflammation of the airways, but combined—”

“They produce an acidic vapor that burns the lungs,” Ceòl said. “True. However, umber root—”

“Makes the mixture unstable. I’ve tried adding it to offset the acidity and it always ruins it.”

“Have you tried infusing it into both ingredients prior to mixing?”

“Prior to…” Her eyes widened.

They continued their work and Corvo kept quiet in his corner. Once the breathing treatment was finished, they mixed remedies for liver and kidney function. Medicines like those were tricky based on Hypatia’s fretting and note-taking, but he trusted Ceòl knew what he was doing.

Ceòl mixed remedies until the sun was low in the sky! Some were liquid, some he pressed into powders, and others he funneled into capsules. All of these medicines were needed reduce Daud’s suffering as he limped towards his end.

“Nearly finished,” Ceòl said as he separated the medications into flip-cap bottles. The law called for push and twist caps to be used for medicines of particular potency, but he opted for flip-caps because they were easier to open.

“My friend won’t have to worry about small children getting into his cabinets and, I’d like him to be able to open his medicines, even once he becomes weak,” he explained.

Hypatia let the violation slide. While Ceòl cleaned up the work station, she placed a hand on Corvo’s elbow and led him into the hall.

“He may have just improved a breathing formula I’ve been stuck on for over a year. What is he doing as your apprentice?”

“He’s well suited—”

“I’m sure he’ll be a fine spymaster. But if he’s picked up on that much alchemy through independent reading and practice, he should be at the Academy!”

“Ceòl isn’t sure he’d be welcomed there,” Corvo lied, unsure how to explain. “As much as the Academy claims to value new ways of thinking…”

“They’re a bunch of pompous old asses. I know. But the world needs someone like him in medicine.”

Corvo scratched the back of his neck. She was right. Ceòl could change the world if he had the chance.

Ceòl poked his head out of the door, a crate full of carefully arranged bottles in his arms. “Thank you, doctor. These should last several months.”

“Of course. And I made note of your formulas so I can mix more for him if needs it.”

Corvo offered to carry the crate since the carriage line was a bit of a trek.

Once they were outside, Ceòl muttered, “I can think of no worse torture than sitting through classes at the Academy.”

“You heard all that, did you?”

“No, but I assumed that’s why Hypatia pulled you aside.”

Corvo sighed. “One letter from Emily and you’d be admitted. A degree from the Academy will open any door, and then you could advance medicine, technology, engineering…”

“To what end?” Ceòl cast his eyes to the ground as they walked. “Everything I create will be lost to time.”

Lost to time or not, Ceòl’s knowledge could help people alive today.

“So there’s no point to improving a society that’s just going to end anyway. Is that right?” Corvo hefted he heavy crate in his arms and looked pointedly at the medicines. “I suppose I can throw these into the harbor then. Daud’s dying no matter what. Why bother to ease his suffering? Why bother to help Emily for that matter?”

“I—” Ceòl frowned. “You’ve made your point.”

Corvo wouldn’t mention the Academy again, but hoped Ceòl would consider it one day. As much as he wanted Ceòl by his side, it was selfish to keep him from the world. 

“Are you angry that I’m helping Daud?” Ceòl asked after a few minutes of walking in silence.

Corvo considered his reply carefully. “I’m not angry. But I can’t find it in me to feel sorry for him either.”

A better person would feel sympathy for a man suffering as much as Daud. But every time he saw Daud’s face or heard his voice, Corvo was back in the gazebo with Jessamine bleeding out in his arms.

He’d left Daud alone all these years for the same reason he’d refrained from telling Emily the truth. Avoidance. And now Corvo had to be in the same room with that man for a second time while they discussed their next steps with Shan Yun. He hoped it’d be quick.

“I don’t expect you to feel sorry for him,” Ceòl said. “But I sent him after the knife, knowing he’d be in danger. I don’t regret it, but…”

“You feel responsible.” Corvo nodded. “That much, I understand.”

They arrived at the carriage hub and loaded the crate of medicines into the small car, then traveled east towards Billie’s ship. For Ceòl’s sake, he’d be civil.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dubious consent warning for this chapter and the next: see end notes for details.

At noon the next day, Ceòl stood around the corner from Shan Yun’s home.Corvo had arranged another meeting with Dolores Michaels and Billie was busy with her duties for Jeanette Lee. He’d be totally alone with the man.

Not that Ceòl expected anything nefarious to happen. The opera singer didn’t have a violent disposition in the least. The worst Ceòl might be forced to endure was a private concert. That was the only reason Corvo didn’t cancel his meeting with Michaels and tag along in the shadows.

Ceòl steeled his nerves for a second day of undercover work and rounded the corner. The guards waved him forward.

“He’s expecting you,” one said.

Ceòl tried to stay in character as he entered the manor house, staring wide-eyed at the expensive furniture and polished marble. A butler greeted him with a curt nod and motioned for him to follow.His hopes soared as he was led to the top floor! But rather than going to Shan Yun’s office, the butler turned right at the top of the stairs and directed Ceòl into a private music room. The space featured nothing but a piano and sound-proofed walls.

“Thank you, Jeremiah.”

Ceòl startled at Yun’s voice. The singer stood in the doorway to his office, leaning casually against the frame. He gave Ceòl a calculating look, then ushered him into the small practice space.

The office was right next door! If he could excuse himself to the restroom he could sneak inside and check the mechanism on the safe. Maybe he’d see some way to access it that Billie missed. But in the meantime…

“Thank you so much for your invitation today, Mister Yun.”

“Call me Shan.” He seated himself at the piano.

“I don’t think I can do that.” Ceòl lowered his eyes and eased a shy smile onto his face.

Yun chuckled and patted the spot on the bench next to him. “Come. Close the door.”

Ceòl did, with a little hesitation.

“The song you sang yesterday,” Yun began. “An original composition?”

“It was.”

“I thought so. I’d never heard anything like it.” Yun looked contemplatively at his hands, fingers hovering over the keys on the piano. “Everything from the structure of the lyrics to the way the melody ebbed and flowed…” After a pause he said, “I need your help.”

A beat of silence. Then two.

Finally Ceòl replied, “Uh…”

“Please.” Yun’s voice was raw. “I’m in a rut. And if I don’t create something new— something truly original— I’m terrified for my musical legacy.”

Shan Yun was right to worry. His music was wildly popular now, but new generations would come to view his style as thin and quaint— described as a “product of its time” by musical scholars of a new generation.

“You want your songs to speak to people generations from now as powerfully as it speaks to them today. You want your work to be timeless.”

“Yes! I’m not sure my current catalogue will survive the test of time.”

It wouldn’t.

“But, sir,” Ceòl said wistfully, “your work— your compositions— they’re all so…”

“Repetitive,” he pouted.

They were. But an adoring fan would never say that.

“See?” Yun said when Ceòl didn’t reply. “You can’t even argue.” He slumped on the bench. “Everyone showers me with praise! But if no one tells me the truth, I’ll never improve.”

“I’ll admit,“ Ceòl began, “your approach to songwriting might lose the interest of future generations.” He considered the most diplomatic way to phrase his thoughts. “When you compose a song, I’ve noticed your approach is focused on communicating a _story_ to the listener.”

“Yes.” Yun scrunched his forehead. “That’s how songs are composed.”

“I disagree,” Ceòl said. ”A song doesn’t need to communicate a coherent story. Simple emotion means just as much. No matter how the world may change in the future, emotions are always relatable. So, be coy with your audience. Make clear what you’re _feeling_ , but not what you’re thinking. Let future generations debate your ‘true meaning’ in academic lectures and pubs alike.”

Yun beamed. “Precisely what I want! My greatest fear is not being remembered properly after I’m gone.”

Ceòl knew a thing or two about one’s legacy being out of your hands.

“Tell me more about the song you sang outside yesterday.” Yun leaned in. “What emotions inspired that piece?”

Ceòl swallowed. “Panic. I was nervous to be singing outside your home! But then, I let my mind wander and…” He cleared his throat. “I thought about things that calm me down. And the rest seemed to flow.”

“Focusing on the raw emotion without telling the story of what inspired it? Wouldn’t the audience be confused?”

“Were you confused?” Ceòl asked.

“A bit.”

“Did it matter?”

Yun’s eyes widened.

“The most enduring art becomes timeless when the creator hands over the interpretation to the audience.” Ceòl looked Yun in the eyes. “Give them control over what to think, but never how to feel.”

Yun grabbed Ceòl by the shoulders. “You are exactly what I need. Please, help me to compose like that!”

As rewarding as helping Shan Yun usher in a musical renaissance might be, that’s not why he was here today! Ceòl needed access to the safe!

“Do you think we might move somewhere more comfortable? I work better in open spaces.” Ceòl toed the floor with his shoe. “Your office perhaps?”

Yun went still. Then he smiled. “I think that’s an excellent idea.” He rose from the bench and motioned for Ceòl to follow.

He swung the office doors open. “If we might have this space?”

The guards nodded and left them.

Finally! The safe was on the left, near the windows. It was built into the wall, probably reinforced with thick metal behind the plaster to prevent it from being ripped out and hauled away. And, just as Billie had described, it lacked a traditional locking mechanism.

Was the only way into the safe truly via microphone? That seemed dangerous. What if something went wrong? What if Shan Yun lost his voice even?

But he couldn’t spend too much time staring, and tried to let his gaze travel the room like a young artist taking in his idol’s inner sanctum.

Ceòl gasped as Yun suddenly took one of his hands.

“You don’t normally play guitar, do you?”

Ceòl tensed. “How do you know that?”

“Calluses. You don’t have any. If you were a regular player your hands would show it.”

Shit. “Well, I couldn’t carry a piano down the street.”

Shan Yun chuckled. “I imagine that would have been quite a sight.” He dropped the hand after a lingering moment.

Ceòl needed to figure out a way to make Shan Yun speak his password.

“When I’m trying to translate emotion into lyrics, I’ve found word association is helpful.”

Yun sauntered over to the windows overlooking the street. “What’s that?”

Ceòl sidled up next to him. He wasn’t sure if the microphone on the safe was sensitive enough to hear them from over here, but trying to angle Yun closer would be too suspicious.

“It’s where I say one word, and you spout off anything that word makes you think of. In an instant. No pausing for reflection. Your gut reaction.”

“Sounds fascinating,” Yun said, and inched closer.

Ceòl forced his body to relax rather than shuffle away. “Alright. First word. Secret.”

“Hmm. Secret?” Yun hummed. “Privacy.” He reached a hand to the velvet strip knotted next to the window and pulled.

“Curtains.” The thick fabric fell across the window.

No telltale click of an unlocking safe. “How about… Treasure?”

“Treasure…” Yun pressed his body closer, just enough for Ceòl to feel heat radiating off of his barrel chest. His finger fell to the exposed skin on Ceòl’s forearm. “Silk,” he whispered. Then he made eye contact. “Emeralds.”

Ceòl felt his cheeks flush. Not the reaction he’d hoped for! And apparently not the password either. He hated to try something so obvious but…

“What about the word Safe?”

“Safe?” Yun narrowed his eyes. He leaned in close and wrapped a large hand around the back of Ceòl’s neck. “Do you think you’re being coy?”

“I— I don’t…” Ceòl stammered.

Yun whispered, low and graveled. “I know why you wanted to come in here.” He pressed Ceòl against the wall with a large hand. And held him here!

Ceòl stiffened under his palm. This was bad. “Safe” had been too obvious! He knew!

“What d-do you mean?” Ceòl stuttered.

“You’ve made it very clear what you’re feeling. And congratulations, my songbird. You’ve inspired the same in me.”

What.

“My office is next to the bedroom.” Yun grinned like a predator. “Don’t think I didn’t see you staring.”

Every instinct in Ceòl’s body screamed to pull away. But if he ran now, there’d be no way to get Yun’s password discreetly.

Ceòl began to tremble, which only seemed to encourage Shan Yun.

He pressed Ceòl against the space between the windows with a thick hand. “Quivering for me,” he growled.

Ceòl tried to inch away, if only to give himself a moment to breathe. A moment to think! But Yun caged him against the wall with a palm next to his head!

Wet lips crashed against his and Ceòl’s head knocked back against the wall with a huff! It was forceful, all plunging tongue and pressure—nothing like the gentle exchanges of pleasure he was accustomed to now. Yun grumbled deep in chest and took. And took.

Ceòl complied with every unspoken demand. He didn’t resist when a hand grabbed his trembling chin to hold his face still, nor when another snaked around to grope his backside. Cool air hit his chest when Yun parted his shirt. A hard cock ground itself against his hip, humid heat making his skin feel dirty even through their clothing. Ceòl fought the urge to tear himself away.

Yun wasn’t violent but his ego was fragile. If Ceòl rebuffed these advances, he’d never be invited back. And then Corvo would risk his life going after one of the other devices.

Corvo. Ceòl sobbed around Shan Yun’s thick tongue and ripped his head to the side, breaking the kiss.

Yun froze. His arms still caged Ceòl against the wall but at least now Ceòl had a chance to breathe air that wasn’t being exhaled from someone else’s lungs.

“Don’t you want me?” Yun asked.

Ceòl didn’t answer.

“Oh. I misunderstood.” His face shuttered and he pulled away. “Let’s call it a day. Jeremiah can see you out.”

“I want you,” Ceòl gasped. “But…”

Yun’s shoulders relaxed. “Then what’s wrong?”

Everything.

“I don’t— I’m not—” The room tilted on its axis and he fought to stay upright. He couldn’t blow his cover. He needed more time to get the password and rob the safe without alerting Yun. But not like this. Not this.

Shan Yun’s voice reached Ceòl’s ears through a haze. “Have you ever done this before?” he asked.

Ceòl shook his head and whispered, “No.”

When he finally met Shan Yun’s gaze through his watering eyes, the man’s excited grin stretched wide across his face.

“Let’s take things slower,” he suggested, as if Ceòl wasn’t one unclasped button away from leaping out the window to safety. “We’ll meet daily. Each day you can teach me a new way to compose. And in return, I’ll teach your body new ways to feel pleasure. Deal?”

He brushed a thumb along Ceòl’s lower lip, pulling the flesh down a bit to expose his teeth.

“Deal,” Ceòl said numbly. He let his mouth go slack, an old habit from an old life.

Yun pressed his thumb inside Ceòl’s mouth, past his teeth. The pad probed his tongue, pressed it down, encouraging Ceòl to suck. So he did. Yun growled and pushed in further.

Ceòl whimpered a small sound of protest before he fumbled his way through the familiar task, creating suction as he worked his tongue around the flesh in his mouth.

“Oh yes,” Yun purred. He gripped Ceòl’s hair with his free hand while he thrust his thumb sharply into Ceòl’s soft mouth. “You’ll be a quick learner.”

* * *

 

Ceòl exited the manor with Yun’s hand resting heavy on his lower back, lingering like a promise.

He moved towards the carriage station, the world a narrow tunnel before his eyes. Ceòl tried to focus on simply putting one foot in front of the other before—

Hands roaming his body. Eyes hungry, sizing him up. Orders and taunts. Ropes digging into his skin.

His mouth watered a few seconds before his stomach lurched. Ceòl sprinted towards some crates stacked in the alley beside a nearby pub. His lunch splattered onto the cobblestones between sobs.

It had been four thousand years since he’d pretended to be a blushing virgin. Saying “this will be my first time” could turn a man two ways. Sometimes it made them softer towards him, hesitant even. But other times it lit a spark in their eyes like the one Shan Yun had as he waved farewell. Those were the ones you had to be careful with.

Ceòl thought he’d never have to be that kind of careful again.

The familiar sound of displaced air that accompanied a transversal set his hair on end. Corvo wasn’t supposed to meet him here! But when Ceòl turned around, he relaxed. Marginally.

“Why are you here, Daud?”

“Corvo asked me to keep an eye on you.” Daud scratched his neck. “Well, more like threatened. When you two dropped off those medicines, he pulled me aside. Said he didn’t want you walking through Eyeless territory alone today, and if anything happened to you…”

“I’m fine.”

Daud looked away and said, “I know. I kept an eye on you.”

Ceòl’s empty stomach sank. He’d kept any eye on him the _entire_ time, hadn’t he? On the street and through the walls of Shan Yun’s home.

Ceòl wiped his mouth with a handkerchief. “Nothing happened.”

Daud shrugged. “Sure. Who hasn’t sucked a thumb or two?”

“You won’t tell Corvo,” he snarled.

Daud snorted. “If you wanna lie to him, be my guest. But if Corvo asks me for a report, I’ll tell him Shan Yun’s trying to fuck you.”

He was in Daud’s face in three strides. “You will _not_. Because if you do, he’ll try something reckless to obtain one of the devices instead. He’ll risk getting himself killed to protect my fragile emotions and I won’t have it.”

Daud went still underneath his extended finger. “We need to cripple this gang so Billie can get out,”he snapped. “The sooner, the better. If you think you can get the password during your ‘lessons’, fine. But I’m not waiting forever. We know where Michaels’ device is and if things get too hot for Billie, I’ll rob that bank myself.”

But Daud’s tough talk was immediately undercut by a ragged coughing fit. The old man doubled over for the worst of it, actually drawing gazes down the alley from passersby on the street. When he stopped hacking, a few spots of blood decorated his glove.

“Did you inhale those medicines?” Ceòl asked. “Over steam for five minutes like I showed you?”

Daud shook his head. “Smelled like garbage.”

“I mixed it for potency, not aroma!”

“Well you mixed it to smell like garbage. I didn’t like it.”

Ceòl rolled his eyes. “And Billie let you skip it?”

“No. She thinks I did five minutes.”

“Those ingredients were expensive. Inhale the vapors,” he hissed. “You won’t be pulling any bank jobs hacking up a lung and alerting all the guards. And the pills? I suppose you dumped them overboard?”

“No, I took those. The white one last night, and a yellow one this morning.”

“Well at least there’s that.” Daud would need those pills in the coming months.

Ceòl motioned with his head and they left the alley. Daud tucked a hat over his head and thin scarf around his neck as a basic disguise as they walked. There were no Eyeless in the immediate area, and the carriage station was close.

“I can add a few things to make it smell better,” Ceòl said after a few moments.

“I like mint,” Daud suggested.

“The opposite of what your lungs need when they’re damaged.”

“But it’s in all kinds of breathing treatments,” Daud groused.

“And it’s wrong.”

It felt odd, walking down the street with Daud. The man had to be feeling the same based on the glances he was casting Ceòl’s way.

“What I don’t understand,” Daud said, after a minute, “is why a man like Shan Yun would want to join a reclusive cult. You said they give up everything they own to go sit on that mountain.”

Ceòl sneered. “Every leader of the Eyeless has their own reasons for pursuing ‘the mysteries of the Void.’ Jacobi has a fascination with death. He’s obsessed with knowing what comes after… all of this.” Ceòl waved his hands to their surroundings. “Of course, if he _really_ wanted to know, he’d just find out personally.”

Daud chuckled. “That’s what I told him!”

“Whereas Michaels is terrified of death. But the ‘gift of immortality’ on offer from the Ascended is not what she thinks it is.” Ceòl sighed. “And Shan Yun wants to delve into the Void’s mysteries for artistic reasons. Which is less sad than the others I suppose.”

“Why does he think he needs the Void to enhance his art?” Daud asked. “His concerts sell out entire opera houses.”

Ceòl snorted. “He’s been in a creative rut for years and his work is stagnant. He thinks understanding the deeper truths of the cosmos will unlock his full range of artistic expression.”

“Creative rut? He just came out with a new ballad!” Daud shouted.

Ceòl rolled his eyes before he could stop himself. “The same drivel he’s been producing his entire career. Structurally and thematically, he’s one note.”

“One note? _Gloriana_ is nothing like _Oxrush Blooms_!”

“Are you really trying to argue that his style has—”

Daud grinned. “Oh, I haven’t even begun to argue.”

They bickered about music all the way to the carriage car and the entire ride to the repair station. It was a welcome relief from the panic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shan Yun misinterprets Ceòl’s interest as sexual and begins to grope and kiss him. Specific warning for simulated fellatio with a finger. Ceòl does not want this and relives some trauma. Shan Yun pauses to ask if he’s misinterpreted the situation. Ceòl is afraid that if he doesn’t accept these advances, Shan Yun will ask him to leave. And without easy access to Yun’s safe, Corvo might attempt a robbery. So, Ceòl explains his resistance as “nervousness” and gives consent. Shan Yun is very aggressive, seeing the signs that his partner is uncomfortable, but not stopping after Ceòl’s initial yes. (No intercourse happens! I can’t be THAT mean to Ceòl.)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same warning as last chapter. See endnotes

The small balcony table overlooking the water was “their spot” in the mornings at the Grand Palace. After sharing breakfast, Corvo would send correspondence to Michaels in preparation for their afternoon meeting while Ceòl continued working on his project for Emily.

Today, Corvo compiled evidence about curious transfer activity between two branches of the Michaels banking empire. An unusual number of clients who had accounts at both the Caltan and Fraeport branches had been moving funds to newly opened accounts at the Tyvian location.

On its own, the activity wouldn’t have been unusual. It could even have been a tax evasion scheme by wealthy Gristolians in anticipation of Emily’s tax increases in the coming years. But the number of accounts and the synchronized timing of the transferred funds raised Corvo’s eyebrows.

It had been a productive morning so far. But his companion wasn’t making as much progress on his work.

“The tables have turned,” Corvo said.

Ceòl looked up sharply. “What?”

He motioned to the blank page. “Usually you fill dozens of pages before I’ve scribbled out a single paragraph.” His sly grin faded. “Are you alright?”

“Fine. It’s just…” He wetted his lips in the way that always drew Corvo’s gaze. “I’m stuck.”

“You? At a loss for words?”

Corvo realized Ceòl was on the first page of The 50-year Plan. “Isn’t that the one that should be easiest? You have very strong opinions about our society.”

“The other volumes were history and theory— the past and the present. But this is about the future. This could change things.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

“I was wrong the other day, when I said it was useless to create progress. I was… in a mood.”

Corvo nodded for him to continue.

“Even though we’ll all be forgotten, it doesn’t make what we do useless.” He grabbed one of the full volumes from underneath his chair and flipped it open. “Princess Yanna of the Third City overthrew her tyrant father against all the odds. Even though her reign of peace didn’t last, her example influenced societies in the surrounding mountains for centuries. She died thinking it had all been for nothing, but so many lives were improved because of what she did.”

He flipped to another page. “A baker in Highrock gave ergot-tainted bread to his clan’s forward scouts in the weeks before they were to wage war, but regular loaves to the other soldiers. When the scouts took ill, rumors of a plague within the rival tribe forced the clan elder’s to rethink their plans. That baker’s decision prevented an empire from rising.”

Corvo looked at the enormous volume with hundreds of filled pages. He’d written this much already? It was extraordinary! But Ceòl was not an ordinary human, his mind least of all.

“They’re forgotten now, but their impact was real at the time. That’s all that matters.”

“So what has you worried?”

“Good intentions don’t always have good results.” He sighed and turned to another example. “Two generals of opposing armies of the Great Plateau laid down their weapons to end a centuries long war and reunite two halves of an empire after generations of conflict.” He frowned. “It was noble and they did it to save lives.”

“But it didn’t work,” Corvo guessed.

Ceòl nodded. “Their people had been at war too long. They no longer shared the same culture, music, food. Even their languages had begun to diverge over the centuries. The two generals grew up with history tutors and tales of the old kingdom. The rest of the people only had suffering and the opposing army to scapegoat their grievances. After all that time, they would never be one people again.” He sighed. “Finishing the war would have been kinder than what happened next.”

Corvo reached across the table and ran his thumb along Ceòl’s wrist.

“What if the ideas I write in this book change things? And what if it all goes wrong?”

Corvo always felt a soft warmth in his chest whenever he was near Ceòl. That feeling radiated through his entire being now.

“You’re afraid your ideas might hurt people?”

“They probably will. Even positive change is chaotic.”

Corvo had no great insight or answers, and he didn’t bother trying to come up with anything of substance to say. Instead he locked eyes with Ceòl’s and smiled. “I’m glad you’re taking this seriously.”

“I am.” They shared a few moments of heavy silence before Ceòl cleared his throat and pulled away. “You’ve arranged another meeting with Michaels?”

“Yes, and it should be a long one. I doubt she’ll take my accusations of an account inflation scheme by the manager of the Caltan branch lightly. She’ll probably clear her afternoon to investigate this. And you?”

Ceòl’s first meeting with Shan Yun hadn’t borne any fruit, so he was going back today.

“He let me into the office yesterday for ‘the acoustics.’ I tried word association with no luck. Today I’m hoping to have a chance to snoop around.”

Being invited back for a second visit was an unheard-of honor, but Corvo wasn’t surprised. Ceòl probably dazzled Shan Yun with ancient music and witty conversation. Anyone would jump at the chance to see Ceòl again.

“Just remember, we have other options if you can’t figure out his safe.”

“Dangerous options. Yun isn’t violent and his guards will leave us alone. His is the safest—”

“I know. And that’s the only reason I’m comfortable letting you go alone.” With Daud watching him in secret of course. Not that Ceòl needed to know that. And Billie would spit if she knew he’d forced Daud out of his bedrest to play bodyguard. But she was busy with Eyeless business during the day, so hopefully he’d avoid her wrath.

“I can do this Corvo.” Ceòl avoided his eyes. “Let me get the device quietly, without anyone getting shot at or chased by gang members.”

“Alright. We’ll do it your way.”

For now.

* * *

The butler showed Ceòl to the third floor again, only this time he was instructed to wait in the office.

“He’s in… another meeting,” the butler informed him. “But he should be finished shortly. You’re to wait in here.”

What luck! Ceòl rushed to the safe as soon as he was alone. He traced the metal with his fingertips. Steel. And thick. The seams on the door were impressively thin. This was obviously custom work. If only he’d seen the construction from the Void, he’d have some idea about its flaws. But this safe was constructed after he’d become human. Ceòl only had educated guesses to guide him.

He examined the microphone. If it was as simple as tricking the mechanism with an electrical short circuit he’d have options, but the panels were welded shut. A charm powerful enough to crack any part of this safe this would take several days to create and the resulting cracked panels wouldn’t be subtle.

Figuring out the password was still the best plan to avoid violence.

Ceòl was careful to replace everything exactly as he found it as he rifled through desk drawers and cabinets. He pulled a few books from the shelves— ones where the dust patterns indicated they’d been pulled free recently— and checked for anything that could give him a clue! Was it too much to ask for the man to have a slip of paper shoved into a desk drawer that read “my safe password is ___”?

“—essential to my work!” Shan Yun bellowed.

Ceòl startled and hastily replaced the book on the shelf. The voice came from the bedroom! Yun had been in there this whole time?

“I thought I was your muse!” a woman’s voice shouted.

“You are! He’s simply a… creative consultant.”

“I know that look!” the woman cried. “‘Creative consultant’ my ass! Are you sleeping with him?”

“No!” Yun exclaimed in faux-outrage. “How could you think…”

“Are you writing songs for him? Like you did for me?”

“Eolina, you’re being irrational. You know you’re—”

“It is still my song, isn’t it? That opens…”

Opens what?

Ceòl dared to press his ear against the bedroom door but the voices continued just below what was audible. He wasn’t sure how much time he’d have alone, so he kept searching.

But nothing jumped out at him. The papers strewn around the desk were personal and business correspondence. He flipped through the books lining the shelves for hidden slips of paper. Nothing. Next, he searched the collection of audiographs representing Yun’s entire song catalogue. But there were no codes or reminders scribbled on the song cards either!

He paused. Maybe the password wasn’t scribbled on an audiograph. Maybe it was one! Eolina said her song opened something! Could the safe be song-activated? Songs were far more complex to reproduce than a single word. But Shan Yun’s song catalogue was well-known and a password that half the Isles knew by heart was far from secure.

If he was lucky enough for the key to be one of Shan Yun’s own compositions, he could play an audiograph for the microphone! But when would there be an opportunity? Since the blood pump malfunction canceled sanguine infusions for the foreseeable future, Yun never left this floor. And the office would be guarded while he slept.

The door to the bedroom cracked open and Ceòl flung himself into a chair. A heavily-tattooed woman with short-cropped hair stormed out of the bedroom— Eolina he presumed. She stopped in her tracks when she saw him.

Ceòl offered her a shy smile. She merely huffed and flung the office door open without a word, slamming it shut behind her.

“Ah, you’re here.” Shan Yun sauntered over and plucked him out the seat. “And not a moment too soon. I can feel inspiration ready to strike.”

He led Ceòl into the bedroom and shut the doors behind them. Yun had arranged a variety of instruments in the large room: piano, harp, violin, guitar. Apparently he wanted to practice in here.

Ceòl gulped.

Yun wrapped a hand around Ceòl’s waist and pulled him close. “Shall we begin?”

* * *

Each meeting with Shan Yun began with business. The man was serious about learning new ways to compose music and soaked up Ceòl’s suggestions like a sponge. Yun wasn’t fond of everything Ceòl showed him of course— allowing listeners to interpret their own meaning from his work was a particularly terrifying concept for him— but he did see the artistic merit.

Yun even composed a few verses that weren’t terrible! Ceòl thought he might genuinely enjoy these sessions if they stayed focused on music. Which, of course, they didn’t.

After a few hours of serious work Shan Yun’s mind would wander. He’d down a few drinks. Then his focus would shift to Ceòl.

If the safe was activated by Eolina’s song, the question now was which song was hers? Ceòl was only passingly familiar with Shan Yun’s work— it had never interested him in the Void— and a perusal of his music sheets didn’t reveal any lyrics about a woman with tattoos. The women in Yun’s songs were all described with generic beauty: long flowing curls, pouty lips, heaving bosoms, eyes like the sea. But if Yun was smart he wouldn’t have described his mistress precisely anyway.

That gave him an idea.

Every day, as their serious work came to a close and the less pleasant part of the afternoon began, Ceòl stretched out on the chaise near the bedroom door and batted his eyes.

“Sing to me?” he pleaded. “Something romantic?”

And, with a drink in hand, Shan Yun obliged. He regaled Ceòl with ballads about love until his eyes grew lidded and his voice low. Then singing turned to seduction.

Ceòl steeled himself and submitted for the sake of maintaining his cover.

After their first lesson in Shan Yun’s bedroom, he showed Ceòl how to “kiss properly.” It was revolting. Corvo kissed like rolling waves and gentle current, always movement enough to make his heart flutter. Shan Yun kissed like a brandy-scented tsunami, drowning Ceòl under a heavy weight with no idea which way was up or down. 

The next day, kissing moved to massage. Corvo did it better, but he allowed Yun’s hands to roam his body and played the nervous virgin to hide the reason for his tense shoulders and shaking hands.

Day three was all neck. Ceòl begged him not to leave marks and Yun grudgingly obeyed.

By day seven, Yun had made his way through the entire song catalogue except for one song: _Gloriana_! When Ceòl asked for it specifically, Yun declined. He shifted his weight on his feet and his eyes darted towards the office!

“Not that one, my songbird. Not here.”

The key to the safe had to be _Gloriana_! Yun wouldn’t risk singing the combination this close to his office and it was the only song he had refused to sing. Finally!

But the revelation tasted bitter as Yun joined him on the sofa and his tongue forced its way down Ceòl’s throat. Thick fingers fumbled at his buttons and Ceòl tried to protest, but with a mouth full of tongue, it sounded like a moan.

Yun broke away from Ceòl’s mouth. “You’ve been toying with me all week,” he growled. He hastily popped the buttons on Ceòl’s vest. “You keep saying you want me, but when I try to move faster…”

“I’m sorry,” Ceòl panted. “It’s just…”

“You can’t articulate it, can you? You don’t have the words to ask for what your body wants. I know what you need.” He quickly popped the buttons on Ceòl’s shirt, exposing his pale flesh to the cool air. “You need me to take control.”

Exposed and laying compliant— shouting “stop!” in his head while no words came out— was too familiar a feeling as Yun kissed and nibbled his way down Ceòl’s chest. Yun stripped off his own shirt and stood back with a flourish. Ceòl had to force himself to look impressed. Yun was broad, with a physique that would have impressed many. But Ceòl longed for Corvo’s sinewy muscle and scars.

Yun’s hands explored his body and he laid back, trying to imagine those hands with sword thickened calluses, gentle and guiding rather than demanding.

He knew the code now, but had no way to get into the safe without Shan Yun seeing and raising an alarm. And in the meantime…

A thick hand dove into the back of Ceòl’s pants and gripped his buttocks. Ceòl gasped and tried to squirm away but Yun laid his full weight on top of him.

“You’re ready,” Shan Yun announced.

“I’m… ready for what?”

Yun eyed him up and down. What a sight he must have made, half-naked, splayed out on the sofa, shaking and flushed.

“We’ve waited long enough, my songbird.” Yun grabbed his hand and hauled him to his feet… and towards the bed.

Ceòl dug his heels into the polished floor. “I… I’m not sure…”

“Nonsense,” Yun said. “Let me show you how much pleasure can be had. You won’t regret this.”

He flung Ceòl to the bed and he landed with a huff. Yun began stripping his pants off which gave Ceòl an opportunity to crawl towards the opposite side of the bed.

He could always say no, Ceòl reminded himself. Why didn’t he just say no?

The familiar sound of a transversal caught his attention and Ceòl’s eyes shot to the chandelier overhead. Daud!

‘Help!’ he mouthed. Ceòl made a gun with his fingers and gestured to Yun, who was busy unlacing his boots.

Daud unholstered a pistol, then took aim at Shan Yun.

Ceòl shook his head. ‘No!’ he mouthed. ‘Sleep dart.’

“Ever since I first heard you sing, I’ve been consumed with the thought of knowing you.”

Ceòl startled. Yun was totally naked as he stalked towards the bed!

“Truly knowing you. In every sense. After I’ve ushered you into manhood, there’s something special I want to share with you.” He kneeled on the bed, then crawled on all fours towards Ceòl like a prowling animal. “An original composition, just for you.”

Ceòl furrowed his brow and feigned concern. “Are you feeling alright?”

Yun paused. “I’m fine. Why?”

“You don’t look well. You’ve gone pale. Maybe you should…”

Daud fired and the dart struck Shan Yun in the ass.

“… Lie down…”

Shan Yun’s eyes rolled back and he fell forward onto the bed with a muffled thud.

Ceòl scrambled to his feet and plucked the dart free, then grabbed his shirt from the floor. Once he was dressed he turned to find Daud standing behind him, concern tracing his features.

Ceòl narrowed his eyes. “Don’t say a word.”

“What would you have done if I hadn’t been here?”

“I wasn’t going to sleep with him!” Ceòl hissed.

“And if he forced the issue?”

Ceòl took a deep breath through his nose and willed his hammering heart to slow. “That doesn’t matter now. I know the safe code.”

The guards vacated the upper floor whenever they had “lessons”, so he strode to the safe and plucked _Gloriana_ from the catalogue book. He inserted it into the machine and Shan Yun’s recorded voice filled the room.

_Release thy golden locks, Gloriana!_ , the song began in his overpowering bellow. _Let the warm summer breeze hold sway! Lie with me in bright sun, silken tresses undone! Reap laurels of youth while ye may!_

The song played on and yet the safe remained closed. Ceòl checked the microphone for obstructions, he flicked the audiograph again and the song replayed.

Nothing!

“No,” he whispered. “This was the only song he refused to sing. It had to be the safe code!”

He grabbed another audiograph from the catalogue. Then another. Ceòl played everything in the collection, and yet the safe stayed locked.

Daud hummed. “Didn’t he mention something about an ‘original composition’ before I knocked him out?”

Ceòl held his head in his hands. If Shan Yun changed the code to something brand new, something not yet recorded… And he very well may have! He and Eolina were on the outs right now and if _Gloriana_ was her song, perhaps that’s why he’d refused to sing it? Ceòl wanted to kick himself. He’d so desperately needed to stop having these meetings, he rushed to a conclusion.

His throat constricted and he wiped the heels of his hands across his stinging eyes. “I’m going to have to see him again.” He released a shaky breath. “Fine.”

Daud pursed his lips but said nothing.

“You can go,” Ceòl told him. “I’ll tell the butler he drank too much and passed out. That’ll explain…” He waved his hand towards the bedroom.

Daud just stood there, staring at him.

Ceòl slumped in the desk chair and looked to the floor. He whispered, “Daud, please. Just go.”

After a moment he heard the far window open. When he looked up, Daud was gone.

* * *

Corvo gripped the railing of Billie’s ship so tightly his knuckles bloomed white. And for once, the source of his tension wasn’t the man standing next to him.

“This has been going on since the beginning?” he growled. “And you’re just telling me now?”

Daud sighed. “He asked me not to say anything, but it got out of hand today. And we still don’t have the code. Those darts leave you feeling hungover. Hopefully Shan Yun believes he passed out drunk and Ceòl can get him to sing that secret song next time. But if he suspects it wasn’t the drink…”

Daud continued on about their options. They were close to getting Shan Yun’s device but if he woke from his stupor and suspected he’d been drugged, he’d change the safe code and increase security. They could also rob the bank, though that would take time to plan even with all of the recon work Corvo had done. Daud proposed a lightning-run string of burglaries, targeting all of Jacobi’s known residences in a 24-hour period. Not subtle, but it’d put them one step closer to ending the Ascended and disrupting the Eyeless.

But Corvo could barely focus on Daud’s ideas.

Why would Ceòl do this to himself? Traumatize himself! His insistence on not pulling the bank job sounded reasonable in the beginning when Yun seemed like the much softer target. But that Ceòl had been willing to go to such lengths to get that device— to keep Corvo from taking any risks—

Footsteps on the dock signaled Ceòl’s approach.

“A small breakthrough today,” Ceòl announced with forced cheer as he climbed aboard. “I’ve narrowed it down to one song. I think tomorrow…” He trailed off. “Corvo, what’s wrong?”

Corvo crossed his arms. “Were you ever going to tell me what was happening at these lessons?”

Ceòl glared at Daud. “Damn you!”

“This is taking too long. “ Daud lifted his chin. “I should go back there and put a pistol to Shan Yun’s head. In fact, why haven’t we?”

“I’m wondering that, too,” Corvo said with a snarl.

“Because that’s too dangerous!” Ceòl yelled. “And unless we’re planning to kill him, he’ll warn the Eyeless once we leave and then we’ll have to fight them all. We need to take it without anyone realizing it’s gone.”

“And the longer you take getting that safe open,” Daud growled, “the more danger Billie is in!”

“I understand wanting to avoid the bank.” Corvo stepped forward and took Ceòl’s hand. “But Daud’s not wrong. Billie hasn’t heard anything about another attempt on Cecelia, which means the Eyeless are keeping her in the dark about those plans.”

“Which means that they suspect she’s not loyal,” Daud added. “We need to wrap this up for Billie’s sake. We’re getting one of those damned devices _tomorrow_. Period.”

Corvo nodded. “Cancel on Shan Yun. We’ll rob as many of Jacobi’s properties as we can tonight. If we get lucky—”

Ceòl shoved his chest. “Don’t go near Ivan Jacobi!”

Corvo froze. “What is going on with you? You’re letting Shan Yun grope you every afternoon, refusing to pursue any other options, and for what? Why are you doing this to yourself?”

Ceòl went still. When he finally spoke, his voice was hollow and cold. “To keep from digging your grave.”

He stormed below deck, leaving Corvo stunned in the Serkonan sun. What was that supposed to mean?

“Give us a few minutes,” he said to Daud, and followed Ceòl below.

Corvo found him in the cargo bay, staring blankly at the planning board. When he didn’t say anything, Corvo broke the silence.

“I figured Shan Yun was infatuated with you. Who wouldn’t be? I just didn’t think he was acting on it.”

Ceòl didn’t reply.

“I wish you’d told me you were working a honey pot. I would’ve…” Sent someone to watch Ceòl’s back? He’d done that anyway, and that was when he assumed the music lessons were innocent. He’d sent Daud to tag along because he worried about Ceòl falling victim to random street crime, not Shan Yun. If he’d actually known what was happening…

Ceòl rolled his eyes. “You would’ve forbidden it and committed a dangerous robbery instead.”

“At least with a bank robbery we could disguise our intended target! If we steal everything in the vault, Michaels might not realize the device is what the thieves were after.” Corvo huffed. “I can handle a bank job.”

“And I can handle Shan Yun,” Ceòl snapped. “I was manipulating men with my mind and my body before your ancestors even cobbled together a written language.”

Corvo’s gut always twisted into a knot when he thought about Ceòl’s first life. Obviously this mission was opening old wounds.

“Daud told me you shake out of your skin for half an hour after every one of those sessions. You’re hurting yourself.”

Ceòl looked away and whispered, “I’ve dealt with far worse than the likes of him.”

“You don’t have to put yourself through this.” He ran his fingers gently through Ceòl’s hair. He repeated himself, softer. “You don’t have to put yourself through this.”

Ceòl’s eyes fluttered shut as he relaxed underneath Corvo’s palms. “You could get killed trying to rob the bank. And Ivan Jacobi is a serial murderer who supplies kidnapped people to the Specter Club.”

Corvo’s hands jerked. “What?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I wanted…”

“To keep me safe.” Corvo shook his head.

It hurt being on the receiving end of that treatment. The cosmos was going to make damn sure he learned his lesson, wasn’t it?

“Of the three leaders, Shan Yun is the least violent. He’s the best target. Just let me…” Ceòl trailed off.

“Ceòl, you are the smartest, most observant, most capable person I’ve ever known. I know you can handle him. But I don’t want you to hurt yourself while you do.”

* * *

Normally, all four of them would rendezvous on the Cowed Hangman in the late afternoon to check in and confer about the their next steps. But after their heart-to-heart, Corvo realized Billie was late. Her duties for Jeanette Lee were usually done by now. He paced the deck and Daud cleaned his pistol as they watched the sun set over the mountains. 

Finally, she came stumbling down the dock!

“Billie!” Daud shouted, and helped her steady herself as she climbed the ramp. “Where’ve you been?”

She grinned and hiccuped. “I was ‘bout to leave the club when Guess Who wandered downstairs?”

“Shan Yun?” Ceòl ventured a guess. “He socialized at the club?”

“More like drank his sorrows and made a scene.” Billie chuckled. “I saw an opportunity to be a kindred spirit and I took it.”

Daud sat her down on a crate. “What’d he have to say?”

“Apparently he was about to ‘become one flesh’ with his new muse,” she looked to Ceòl. “But he passed out drunk and never got to finish. He spent hours wailing about how embarrassed he was, worrying he’d never see ‘Cole’ again after making an ass of himself.”

Daud looked to Ceòl. “Well, at least he buys the story you told the butler.”

“And he’s desperate to see me.” Ceòl thumbed his chin. “I can use that.”

Corvo flared his nostrils as he sucked in a slow breath. But Ceòl held up the palm of his hand.

“One more attempt,” he pleaded. “The instant I’m uncomfortable, I’ll stop him. I swear.”

“What about getting the device without him knowing?” Corvo asked.

“That’s the goal. But if I can’t get it without him knowing, I’ll find a way to contain him while we get a head start on the Eyeless.” Ceòl took his hand and said, softer, “If I don’t have his device by tomorrow afternoon, you can assault Shan Yun as much as you like.”

Some dark part of Corvo hoped it would come to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ceòl continues to see Shan Yun throughout the week, tolerating a lot of groping and sexual attention in an attempt to secure the safe password discreetly. Finally he thinks he’s figured it out! But before he can form a plan, Yun drags Ceòl to bed, saying he is “ready.” Ceòl wants to say no, but freezes. Luckily, they’re interrupted before Shan Yun can take things further.


	18. Chapter 18

The next morning, Corvo woke to knocking on the door of their suite. He rose from the bed, gently sliding the covers back over a sleeping Ceòl, and met the servant at the door.

“Apologies, Royal Protector,” she whispered. “A courier just delivered a letter from Ms. Michaels. It’s marked as Urgent.” She handed over the envelope and scurried away.

Corvo tore open the seal.

> _Lord Attano,_
> 
> _I received copies of Her Highness’ banking records from Boyle Investments last night. However, the balances do not match your descriptions. The account is short by 500,000 coin! I considered that she may have been the victim of fraudulent activity, but the signatures on the documents appear genuine._
> 
> _If you believe this to be an error, please meet me as soon as you can. I will be in my office at 9:00 am sharp._
> 
> _However, if these figures are accurate, I’m afraid Her Highness’ funds do not meet the minimum threshold for Platinum Investors and we may need to discuss a Bronze Membership for her instead._
> 
>  
> 
> _Dolores Michaels_
> 
> _Owner/Director, Michaels Bank_

A withdrawal of half a million coin could only mean one thing— mercenaries we’re headed to Karnaca.

Corvo rushed to get dressed.

“Mmmfph…” Ceòl mumbled into his pillow as he woke. “Corvo, what’s wrong?”

He tossed Michaels’ letter towards the bed.

Ceòl read it with wide-eyed horror. “Oh no.”

“I need to deal with this, but I can be back before you meet with Shan Yun,” he assured Ceòl.

“Corvo, this means…”

“I know what it means,” he snapped. Then softer, he said, “I’ll handle it quickly. I won’t leave you alone today.”

Ceòl rose from bed and began dressing himself. “It could take all day to figure out which company she hired.”

Corvo knew that. And he was torn.

Ceòl took his hand. “Don’t worry about me. I have a plan and a new attitude.” He pecked Corvo on the cheek. “I can do this alone.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine, I can do this with Daud.”

“Daud isn’t safe to be around now.” He cupped Ceòl’s face. “If you get caught in the crossfire between him and whoever Emily hired, I’ll—”

“Daud can elude anyone sent to find him, and you know it.” Ceòl sighed. “He’ll help me. We’ll get the device. We’ll stop the Ascended and scatter the Eyeless. And then, if he has to run from mercenaries after…”

“Hopefully Michaels has some information about where Emily transferred the money,” Corvo said, as he stuffed his arms into his shirt. “If she took the funds out of her account, they’ll be in escrow until the job is done. Whichever institution is holding it will be a clue about which mercenary company she sent.”

* * *

The manor loomed large over Ceòl as he prepared for their final lesson. His visits were supposed to happen in the afternoons, but if Billie was right about Shan Yun’s desperation, Ceòl thought it best not to keep him waiting.

He steadied his nerves, then knocked.

The butler ushered him inside in with a quick wave and hurried up the stairs. “Thank goodness you’re here,” he grumbled. “He’s a mess.”

The butler practically shoved him into the office when they reached the top floor. Shan Yun wasn’t here, but the bedroom door was open and Ceòl could hear humming coming from within. He strode to the far wall and unlatched one of the windows, then entered the bedroom.

The butler wasn’t exaggerating. Shan Yun sat with his back to the door, hunched over in a chair. He was humming an unfamiliar tune, hair a mess, and wearing yesterday’s clothes!

Ceòl curled his upper lip. Seriously? This much drama over one embarrassing sexual encounter? He glanced in the nearby mirror to quickly prepare. Ceòl mussed his hair and rumpled his vest. Then, he put on his best wide-eyed mask and bit his lips until they were pink and swollen.

“Shan?” he called out, breathless.

The man whipped around in his chair. “Cole! You’ve come back!”

“I couldn’t stay away,” he swooned.

Yun crossed the room in a few quick strides. “Even after I made such a fool of myself?”

“Especially because of that.” Ceòl grabbed him by the lapels. “I spent all week quivering and nervous, so intimidated by your confidence. But then yesterday…” Yun flushed and turned his head away but Ceòl took him under the chin and angled his face back to center. “Yesterday I realized you were nervous too.”

“I… was?” Shan Yun scrunched his eyebrows.

“You drank so much you passed out before we could…” He trailed off. “Because you were just as I anxious as I was! Underneath all the bluster, that is,” Ceòl added with a shy grin.

Yun leaned into the touch and exhaled a heavy sigh. “It’s true. Oh, my songbird you see right through me. Every day you dazzle with your mind and your voice. Your story is just beginning and mine…” He gulped. “One day soon I’ll be gone from this world and only my legacy will remain.”

Ceòl went still. “What do you mean ‘someday soon.’ Are you sick?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. I’m being dramatic. I only mean that…” He glanced behind Ceòl and into the office. “Nothing lasts forever.”

Was Shan Yun planning to join the Ascended soon? That’s why he was so concerned about his musical legacy! There was no time to waste, then.

Ceòl raised up onto his toes and attacked Shan Yun’s lips in a heated kiss— a real kiss, not the sloppy domineering displays forced on him all week. Ceòl summoned a part of himself buried over four millennia ago as he took Shan Yun apart piece by piece.

His fingers danced deftly along Yun’s erogenous zones, through his clothes. Teasing. He licked and nipped at the skin on Shan Yun’s neck. Ceòl smiled against his throat when he felt the other man shudder. He even faked a breathy moan when Yun palmed his ass and squeezed too roughly to be pleasurable.

“You’re on fire,” Yun moaned.

“I’m inspired,” Ceòl growled into his ear.

Ceòl pulled away from the singer, and tried not to smirk at the breathless mess he’d reduced him to. He gazed at Shan Yun through lowered lashes.

“Sing to me,” he said. “The song you were going to reveal yesterday. I want to hear it. I want the lyrics to pull me apart before we make love for the first time.”

Ceòl led him to the bed and splayed himself out, neck bared and legs quivering.

Shan Yun stood before him, eyes darkened, and he began to croon.

 

_Hair like the darkest Void_

_Skin the smoothest silk_

_Emerald eyes staring deeply into mine_

_I can take him away from that common ilk_

 

Ceòl rolled his eyes beneath his closed lids. Common ilk? If only he knew.

Shan Yun stood over him and unclasped a button on his shirt with each line.

 

_His innocence, the sweetest taste_

_With this seduction I’ll not make haste_

 

As if waiting a mere seven days before literally dragging him to bed counted as “not making haste!” But Ceòl kept up appearances and slid a hand down his chest as he bit his lips in feigned ecstasy.

He felt a dip in the bed and Yun kneeled on the mattress. He lowered himself to Ceòl’s face and bellowed,

 

_Mouth open wide_

_As I plunge inside_

 

Yun’s hand dove down the front of Ceòl’s pants and cupped his flaccid cock. He paused, confused. “Songbird?”

Hopefully the safe didn’t need the entire song because that was quite enough. Ceòl dropped the act and let his face go hard. “Now.”

Daud materialized behind Shan Yun and pressed the barrel of a pistol to the man’s head. “Don’t move,” he warned.

Ceòl cleared his throat and looked at Daud from his pinned position underneath the stunned man. “Actually, if you could get his hand out of my pants…”

Daud grabbed Yun by the collar and hauled him to his feet, then shoved him into a nearby chair. “Now, don’t move.”

Yun stared wide-eyed at Daud, face pale with recognition. Then he looked to Ceòl. “Who are you?”

Ceòl didn’t answer. He strode through the bedroom doors into the office and shut off the audiograph Daud placed there when he’d come in through the window. Hopefully it recorded the song clearly enough to activate the safe. And if not… they’d ask Shan Yun for a repeat performance. At gunpoint.

He clicked the card into place on the machine next to the microphone. Shan Yun’s muffled crooning began and Ceòl waited as the recorded voice warbled through the verses. He kept his face neutral and posture rigid, but breathed a sigh of relief when a green light next to the safe clicked on and the door swung open!

Finally! Ceòl reached inside and gripped a heavy pedestal with both hands. Within the thick glass housing, a chunk of the Void lay inert. Waiting.

He carried it into the bedroom and placed it on Shan Yun’s desk.

“No!” the singer gasped. “You don’t know what that is. It’s too special a thing to—” He gritted his teeth. “It’s not for you!”

Ceòl looked him dead in the eyes and flicked the small switch on the base of the device. The chamber filled with familiar energy and the chunk of black rock levitated within its confines.

“That’s what we need to get up the mountain?” Daud asked.

Ceòl nodded. “The field it generates only covers a small area. We’ll need to stick close together. But the power source could remain active for weeks if needed.”

Daud kept his gun on Shan Yun as he narrowed his eyes to take a better look at the strange device on the desk. “That can’t be what it looks like.”

“It is.”

“How?”

Ceòl scowled. “The Ascended have their ways.”

“They’ll kill me if that ever leaves my side,” Shan Yun pleaded. “They entrusted me with their most precious possession. It’s the only one of its kind and irreplaceable.”

Ceòl raised a brow. They told him this was the only one? Interesting. Perhaps each Eyeless leader was under the same impression.

“In that case, you’d better start running to avoid their wrath,” Ceòl suggested. “Perhaps a sabbatical in Wei-Gon?”

Yun tried to lurch out of his chair but Daud smacked him across the face with the back of his hand. “Stay.”

Shan Yun cradled his face and scowled at Ceòl. “Why are you doing this? I was so close to ascending. Everything I’ve worked for…”

“What were you really hoping to find in the Void?” Ceòl asked. “Knowledge? Power?”

“Clarity.”

Ceòl sighed. “You’d have been disappointed.”

He turned to Daud and motioned to the small satchel on his hip. Daud tossed it over and Ceòl removed the large syringe inside.

Yun went rigid. “What are you going to do?”

Without looking at their captive, Ceòl said, “Put him in the tub.”

Daud ripped Shan Yun to his feet, but the singer had a significant size advantage over the sick assassin. He pushed forward with his bulk and made a break for the door. Ceòl took a startled breath but Daud appeared in front of Yun in an instant.

“Gah!” Yun tried to scream, but Daud’s leather-clad hand wrapped around his mouth as he hurled Yun to the ground.

Some scuffling ensued, but Daud regained his control over the larger man after a moment and shuffled them towards the bathroom. He dumped Shan Yun into the tub and aimed a pistol at his head.

“Quiet,” Daud hissed.

Ceòl sat on the edge of the large tub. “It’s just a sedative,” he assured Yun. “We can’t have you warning anyone until we have a head start. You’ll be unconscious for at least 36 hours, and you’ll probably piss yourself at some point. That’s why we’re putting you in the tub.” He added, “This is this for the sake of your linens and your housekeeping staff, not your dignity.”

Ceòl pressed the needle to his skin.

“Wait,” Yun pleaded, before Ceòl depressed the plunger. “Who _are_ you?” he asked again.

Ceòl injected the sedative without ceremony and turned his back as Yun’s head lolled back against the tub.

“Won’t someone find him before he wakes up?” Daud asked.

Ceòl glanced into the nearby mirror and tousled his hair a bit more, then untucked his shirt and roughly ripped the top half open, scattering buttons to the floor. He slapped the palm of his hand against his cheeks to flush some color, then turned back to Daud.

“No one is going to dare enter this room for the foreseeable future.”

He pulled the call lever near Shan Yun’s bed to summon the butler, and met the man at the door of the office.

“Yes, um, hello,” he greeted the butler, doing his best impression of an excited youth. “Shan— um, Mr. Yun, has become overwhelmed with… inspiration. He says we need enough food and wine to last the rest of the day. And night.”

The butler sighed. “Will sir be taking refreshments in courses or all at once?”

Ceòl blinked. Well, at least it wasn’t an unusual request. “All at once, please. Once we begin… composing… we’re not sure when we’ll have time to come up for air. So to speak.”

“Indeed.” The butler left with a nod.

Less than twenty minutes later, there was a short knock on the office door and Ceòl opened it to find a cart loaded with enough food to feed a family! He rolled it into the bedroom. He and Daud helped themselves to a few of the tastiest morsels.

“No one will want to step foot on this entire floor until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest,” Ceòl said between mouthfuls.

Daud chuckled. “Not bad.”

* * *

Corvo’s jaw ached from tension by the time he reached Michaels’ bank. 

How could Emily do this? Mercenaries stomping around Karnaca could alert the Eyeless! And if the Eyeless realized Daud never left Karnaca, it’d ruin Billie’s cover. As much as he knew Daud deserved to be dragged in front of a court, he didn’t want Billie caught in the crossfire. Too many people had already been hurt by Emily’s hunt.

Plus, Corvo wanted to be as true to his word as Daud had been to his. He’d watched over Ceòl as promised and helped him when things went too far. It wouldn’t feel right if a gang of mercenaries grabbed him now. And if Daud kept his word about turning himself over to justice once Billie was safe, these mercenaries would be a waste of coin!

Vesper Bristow escorted him to Dolores Michaels’ office. The man chattered on as usual about the morning exchanges and rising interest rates, but Corvo didn’t bother to feign interest. He stared straight ahead as they rode the elevator while his thoughts spun in circles.

The door opened at their floor and Corvo barely gave Bristow a nod as he strode towards Michaels. “Show me what you have.”

“Ah. So you didn’t know.” Michaels handed him the documents, as well as a snifter of brandy. “You’re going to need a drink when you see her account balances.”

Corvo set to work. Sure enough, the forms showed a large withdrawal from Emily’s personal accounts. His eyes widened when he saw the date of the transaction. He couldn’t believe this! She withdrew the money the day after he left Dunwall! That was before she even got confirmation of Daud’s whereabouts!

“Oh, Emily. Why would you do this?”

“Children do have minds of their own. Perhaps Her Highness isn’t as interested in investing her fortune as you thought,” Michaels said with a flip of her hand.

Corvo balled his fists in his lap. Emily hired mercenaries as soon as his back was turned! It wasn’t a stretch to think that Billie was hiding Daud, and that Daud might be in Karnaca. But still…

He scratched his beard as he took another sip of his drink. Something didn’t make sense. These forms showed the funds had been withdrawn as _cash_. If she’d sent a mercenary group to Karnaca, Emily would have moved the funds into an escrow account until the job was done. 

And Corvo knew Daud was safe as of his morning, so the job wasn’t done. Then why a withdrawal?

Corvo narrowed his eyes and inspected the documents again. He ran his fingers along the corners and lifted the paper to his nose. His hands froze when the smell of ink hit his nostrils.

These documents weren’t sent from Dunwall. They were less than a day old!

He tried to act calm as he lowered the pages, but his hand felt heavy and a tingling sensation began to spread across his face.

Michaels leaned back in her seat and grinned. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice the timing? You _finally_ accept my overtures after our failed kidnapping in Dunwall? I know you’ve been using these meetings to case my bank, but it’s no matter. You’ll meet the Ascended very soon. It’s taken all week to make the arrangements.”

His eyes grew heavy as the tingling sensation spread from his face to down to his hands. The brandy slipped from his palm and hit the floor with a thud.

“Don’t worry, Royal Protector. It’s only a sedative. They’re not planning to kill you.” She scooped up the forged account sheets and slid them neatly into a file. “Not yet, anyway.”

Corvo chuckled to himself as the drug took effect. He really ought to have learned his lesson about accepting drinks from people he didn’t trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh no! Corvo's been kidnapped again! he's my favorite damsel.


	19. Chapter 19

Ceòl’s boots thudded on the wooden deck of the Cowed Hangman as he paced from starboard to port, fingers tightly laced behind his back. The moon rose over the mountains and he swallowed a fresh wave of panic. 

Corvo should have been here hours ago.

He’d gone to meet Dolores Michaels about the large withdrawal as soon as the bank opened. Even if he’d taken all day to confirm their worst fears via the documents and street chatter, Corvo swore he’d check in. But there’d been no word. Afternoon came and went. As did early evening. Now it was hours past sunset and everyone was worried.

Either something detained Corvo after his meeting with Michaels or the meeting itself had been a trap. As the hours dragged on, the latter seemed more and more likely. Even though it was possible Emily would send mercenaries to Karnaca against Corvo’s wishes, the chances of Michaels having gotten those banking records from Dunwall so quickly was very suspicious. In hindsight. But Ceòl had been so worried about his final attempt at Shan Yun, he’d not thought of that.

Now Corvo was missing. 

“You’re going to wear a track in my deck,” Billie chided. “I just had it refinished.”

Ceòl opened his mouth to snap back with some witty retort, but his throat was too tight to form words. All he could manage was an aborted croak.

“How much longer do you want to wait?” she asked.

Ceòl tried not to sniffle as he said, “I’m done waiting. It’s clear that something happened to Corvo.”

“He’s not dead,” Billie said with certainty. “No matter who’s behind this, Corvo is a valuable prisoner. So in all those scenarios you’re running in your head, imagine him alive. Alright?”

A ball of tension unknotted itself in Ceòl’s gut. Slightly. “He was last seen entering Michaels bank, so she’s probably the culprit. The question is _why_ she took him. Does she know about our plan? I relocked the safe after we left Shan Yun, so there should be no evidence of theft. And I’m certain Shan Yun is still drugged. Even if his staff have found him by now, he won’t have told anyone about the missing device.”

He smirked darkly. Nothing was going to bring Shan Yun to consciousness before the drug wore off on its own. Ceòl tailored the cocktail himself and it was resistant to all the antidotes modern alchemists knew about. So, Michaels had no evidence about the stolen device.

“Maybe the cultists had another vision,” Daud said from his perch on the railing.

If that were the case, they were all in trouble.

“Or maybe Corvo was taken for some other reason,” Billie suggested.

“Like the Eyeless did with me?” Daud asked. “These people are so obsessed with the Void they didn’t even blink at my bounty.” He thumbed his chin. “Abbey pardon or not, most people suspect Corvo knows about magic. Could be they took him for information, with no idea he was investigating them.”

And if that was true, they’d do with Corvo what they’d been planning to do with Daud. Ceòl raised his eyes to Shindaerey Peak. They needed to make their way to the top now that they had the device, but if they began the climb would they be moving towards Corvo or away from him? 

“I wish I could _see_ what happened. All I can do it sit and speculate and…”

Billie chuckled. “Welcome to humanity. Where we’re all just stumbling around like idiots and guessing at things.”

Ceòl sighed. “At least I’m in good company.”

Their moment was interrupted by the sound of engines. Billie strode to the starboard side and gasped.

“Skiffs headed this way.” Billie gulped. “Coming from the west.”

From Eyeless territory.

“Well, at least that’s one question answered,” Daud grumbled. “Billie, you’re blown.”

“Shit.” Billie cracked her neck and reached for the explosives stashed in the nearby crate.

They’d planned for this. Ceòl just hated that it had come to pass.

He hurried below deck and packed as much of Daud’s medication as he could into a shoulder bag. Then he grabbed the already-packed bags around the cargo bay: Clothes. Dry foods and water. Coin. Weapons. Like Corvo when he was undercover in Karnaca, Billie and Daud always kept their things packed and ready to run. Then, he hoisted the void device into a large duffel bag and struggled back up the steps with his burdens.

On deck, Billie and Daud finished laying charges as he handed them their respective bags. The three of them waited for the skiffs to get close. Daud and Billie drew weapons as the Eyeless boarding parties scrambled aboard. The three of them stood back-to-back and retreated to the center of the deck.

“Traitor!” one gang member spat. “Finally got permission to put you down!”

“Knew it was too convenient,” and another growled. “Sole survivor. Rest of the team dead. You probably killed ‘em!”

Billie nodded. “I slit their throats in the cargo hold. It was a pain to clean up.”

A dozen assailants closed in and the three of them joined arms.

Billie sighed. “I loved this boat.”

One of the gang members paused. “Huh? What’daya mean you loved—”

Ceòl sucked in a breath as Billie dropped the deadman switch in her left hand… and Daud squeezed his!

They reappeared on the repair station dock just beyond the rush of hot air and fire! The breath in Ceòl’s lungs was pushed out of him from the force of the blast and he nearly stumbled into the water!

He turned to the burning remains of the Cowed Hangman— the Dreadful Wale— and shielded his eyes. The thugs all died instantly, but more would come. The flames would be visible all the way to Addermire.

“Let’s move,” Daud said.

They sprinted along the dock, leaping over damaged planks and dodging chunks of burning debris flung from the explosion, and took refuge inside the old carriage line. They couldn’t risk heading back to the Grand Palace and hiding under Armando’s skirts. That direction took them through Eyeless territory. The safest escape was east, through the Dust District.

Through Howler Territory.

Turning on the carriage line at this hour would reveal their intended route, so they ventured into the maintenance tunnels guided by the lantern in Daud’s hand. The old man wheezed every few steps in the damp passage but didn’t complain. Internally, Ceòl fretted about the species of fungi growing on the walls. It’d be devastating for Daud’s lungs if he inhaled any spores.

The exit hatch creaked open into another rail station, but it wasn’t abandoned at this late hour like it should have been. The place was packed with Howlers!

Billie signaled them to stay quiet as they crept around the shadowed edges of the bustling station.

“Alright, people!” a woman shouted. “This is what we’ve been preparing for! All those drills aren’t ‘stupid bullshit’ now, huh?”

Ceòl narrowed his eyes as she came into focus. Dusty blonde hair, sharp chin and tattoos covering every visible inch of skin— Mindy Blanchard. And she was rallying the troops.

“Status report!” she snapped at a nearby man.

“Main avenues are all covered on the ground. Rooftops too. We’ve got good angles and we’ll be able to see anyone who tries to sneak through the alleys and side streets. Carriage lines into the district are under surveillance, but we’re keeping back like you asked.”

“Good. If any Eyeless are dumb enough to try the carriages, we’ll let them get a few cars in and think it’s clear before we hit. What about sewers and maintenance tunnels?”

The Eyeless’ hunt had the Howlers on high alert! Were they swarming the Dust District to find Billie?

Ceòl felt Daud jerk beside him. “We gotta move now,” Daud whispered. “I can get us close to the exit, but not all the way clear. We’ll have to move fast if—”

His breath caught on the last word and his throat hitched. No! No, no, no! A coughing fit was incoming!

Daud grabbed for their hands and Ceòl watched the old assassin dart his eyes around for a clear line to escape. But every possible path was filled with Howlers! They’d alert the entire gang, and even if they were able to quickly escape the station, the Howlers were mobilized for war against the Eyeless tonight. Running with the both of them in tow, not to mentioned the heavy duffel bags slung across each their shoulders, would be a strain on Daud. And they couldn’t fight this many people.

Ceòl jerked his hand away as Daud prepared a transversal. “I have an idea.”

Daud’s face was red and his eyes watered while he fought his protesting lungs.

“What’re you doing?” Billie hissed.

“Arranging safe passage.” Ceòl lifted his hands above his head and stepped into the light.

The Howlers rounded on him, guns drawn. But Ceòl kept his eyes on Mindy while the others rushed him and forced Daud and Billie out of hiding.

“Are you insane?” Daud managed to gasp, before his coughing began.

Billie carefully adjusted the collar on her shirt, but the Howlers shoved her forward and the Eyeless tattoo on her neck flashed for a brief instant.

“Well, well. Seems some Eyeless got through the abandoned tunnels before we locked ‘em down.” She raised her pistol and took aim.

“We’re friends of Vera’s!” Ceòl shouted.

Mindy’s finger froze on the trigger. “What’d you just say?”

“I said,” he repeated, “we’re friends of Vera’s.”

Mindy lowered her weapon and hopped down from her crate. The Howlers parted for her and she came nose-to-nose with Ceòl. “There’s only one person who’s supposed to use that code,” she whispered. “And you’re definitely not Corvo Attano in one of his disguises.”

“I’m his apprentice,” Ceòl whispered back. “Corvo trusted me with the code in case of emergencies.” A lie. He’d been watching from the Void during Corvo and Paolo’s delicate negotiations after Delilah’s coup. The code was supposed to be Corvo’s “get through Howler territory unharmed” ticket.

Mindy narrowed her eyes. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but we’re going to war tonight. It’s an awful coincidence for you to show up here with an Eyeless lackey and a sick beggar, spouting off codes you’ve got no right to.”

Ceòl thought he heard Daud growl something unflattering between fits of coughing.

“Why don’t you let Paolo decide what rights we have. If he doesn’t like Corvo passing along his code, so be it. But if you kill us and he decides he would’ve liked to hear us out…”

Mindy’s upper lip twitched. “Fine.”

She took Ceòl by the elbow and dragged him to the exit, waving for her men to shove Billie and Daud along.

“We could’ve run,” Daud rasped.

“Maybe. But there’s too much at stake to risk dying in an alley with a Howler’s blade in my back.”

Ceòl looked towards the moonlit mountain. They had to find Corvo, and their only chance of getting through this district alive was with Paolo’s blessing.

Mindy kept silent and marched them towards the Crone’s Hand, never releasing her biting grip on Ceòl’s arm. She and her men shoved the three of them up the stairs and into Paolo’s office.

“He said they were ‘friends of Vera’s’” she announced. “But since that’s only supposed to apply to one person, I wasn’t about to let them waltz through the streets.”

The man seated at the desk turned in his chair. “Good call.”

“Paolo, I presume,” Ceòl said with a polite dip of his head. “I understand your lieutenant’s caution. But Corvo gave me that code for a reason and if you want his continued support, you’ll allow us safe passage.”

“Passage to where?” Paolo’s relaxed smile set Ceòl’s hair on end. “Be specific.”

“East.”

“East,” Paolo repeated. He leaned back in his chair. “That’s a strange coincidence. Earlier today my people intercepted a group traveling east with a covered wagon. My guys stopped them to collect the ‘neighborhood taxes’ but things got ugly when they tried to take a cut of the cargo in their wagon. Those strangers were armed to the teeth. I lost two men and the others barely survived.”

Ceòl’s jaw trembled. That must have been Michaels transporting Corvo out of the city! “And the cargo?”

“According to my guys, the cargo looked awfully familiar.”

Ceòl’s voice sounded distant to his own ears. “Was he alive?”

“Probably,” Paolo said with a shrug. “Doubt they would’ve bothered putting a corpse in chains.”

“Then we have to hurry,” Ceòl insisted. “They have a head start but we can still—”

Paolo cut him off with a snap of his fingers. “Attano’s support was useful these past few years, but lately it’s been a pain in my ass. Sure, the Grand Guard don’t hassle us like they used to, but he had a lot of rules— rules the Eyeless don’t abide by. I can’t win a war with him tying one hand behind my back.”

And now Corvo was out of the picture as far as Paolo was concerned. Ceòl felt Billie and Daud stiffen beside him.

“Don’t suppose you’d know why the Eyeless are all riled up and trying to storm my district tonight?” Paolo asked. Ceòl watched as he turned his gaze to Billie. “This wasn’t a planned mission like the mystery wagon earlier. Tonight’s swarm of charm-wielding idiots is sloppy. Almost like they’re chasing someone.”

He drummed his fingers on the desk. “Way I see it, I could go to war, and lose more men. Or I could give the Eyeless what they want and save myself a huge fucking headache tonight.”

Oh no.

Ceòl didn’t miss the way Daud clenched his left hand. They could kill the Howlers in this room easily enough. But reinforcements would come quickly and they’d still need to make it to the forest before they were clear of danger.

Ceòl reached for Daud’s arm and squeezed.

“If you hand us over you’ll look weak, and you know it.” Paolo bristled but Ceòl continued. “Like you said, the Eyeless are giving chase and it’s sloppy. Your people are better organized and prepared to take them on. So if you fold like a coward before the fighting even starts—”

Paolo rounded the desk, arm raised. Pain exploded through Ceòl’s skull as the back of Paolo’s hand flew across his cheek with a crack!

“Maybe Attano let you backtalk him like that, but men have been killed for less in this office. No one tells me what to—” Paolo hissed and grabbed his vest pocket. “Ouch. Shit.” Then he whispered, seemingly to himself, “Stop scratching me!”

It hurt to move his face, but Ceòl managed a smirk. “Code phrase aside, I really am a friend of Vera’s.” He lowered the timbre of his voice. “And I’m willing to bet she’s missed me. Haven’t you, darling?”

Paolo shot a panicked look to his vest. Just beneath the surface, something wriggled underneath his clothing.

Mindy hummed. “Vera’s a real person? Not just a code phrase?”

Paolo glared at Ceòl. “I’m gonna need a minute alone with this one. Take the other two outside.”

“What? Paolo, I’m not leaving you alone with some weird—”

“Now, Mindy!” he snapped. “I trust you with my life. But this is personal.”

The goons grabbed Daud and Billie out of their chairs. Ceòl shot them a hopeful expression and mouthed “trust me.”

Mindy’s face pinched, but she finally nodded and left the office as well. Then it was just the two of them.

Ceòl squirmed under Paolo’s dark stare. “You trust her with your life, but not your secrets?”

“We’re twin spirits, Mindy and I. But if she had special powers, and I ever figured out it worked…” He stroked something in his breast pocket. “Well, I know what I’d do.”

They were silent for a moment before Paolo asked, “You some kind of witch? You study under Vera?”

“She studied under me. Didn’t you, love?”

The hand tore free from the buttoned pocket inside Paolo’s jacket and scrambled to the gang leader’s hips before he could react! It plucked the pistol off his belt and tossed it to Ceòl! Then it leaped towards him, landing delicately on his shoulder.

Ceòl cocked the hammer and aimed at Paolo’s head, trying desperately not to wince every time the mummified fingers of Vera Moray stroked his reddened cheek.

“Not a sound,” Ceòl warned. “You won’t come back from this bullet now that Vera’s jumped ship.”

Paolo went rigid, but nodded. “What’re you gonna do?”

Ceòl’s ear perked to the sound of gunfire several blocks away. The Howlers were meeting the Eyeless in battle. “You’re going to give us safe passage through the district and escort us to the base of Shindaerey.”

“And leave my people to fight alone?”

“If my friends and I succeed, you won’t have to worry about the Eyeless much longer. Helping us _is_ in your people’s best interests.”

Paolo ran his tongue along his teeth. “Let’s say we escort you guys out of town. There’s no guarantee you succeed in whatever it is you’re planning to do. So what’s in it for me? Tonight.”

Ceòl chuckled. “You might get your lucky charm back once we’re clear of danger. Assuming she forgives your rudeness.” He stroked the leathery skin of the hand. “She always did hold a grudge.”

Ceòl could almost hear the dozens of questions forming in Paolo’s throat, but the gang leader stayed silent.

“Fine,” Paolo finally whispered. “We’ll get you to the woods at the base of the mountain. But you _will_ give Vera back before you start the climb.” He gulped. “If you try to run off with her, I’ll shoot you and take my chances with the one life I’ve got. I’m not chasing you to the peak. People try to climb that mountain and never come back.”

Ceòl tried not to look at the duffel bag under his chair. “I’ll take my chances as well.”

He buttoned the mummified hand into his jacket pocket after it tried repeatedly to take up residence in the back of his pants.

“Now, now Vera,” he chided. “What would polite society say?”

Then, keeping the pistol aimed at Paolo’s head, he walked backwards towards the bathroom. Ceòl fished a spring razor out of his satchel and placed it at the base of the shrine inside.

“If you try to take Vera by force, either I or one of my friends will still get a shot off. And when you resurrect back here… you’ll die for good.”

Paolo pursed his lips. “Clever.”

He grudgingly opened the door and announced the change of plans, scowling at Ceòl the entire time. Billie and Daud exchanged a few curious glances but knew better than to question Paolo’s sudden change of heart.

They hurried out of the city, away from the fighting and hopefully towards Corvo.Paolo led them, with Mindy and the three thugs bringing up the rear. Getting out of the city didn’t take long, but once they began to see fewer houses and more trees the Howlers grew jumpy.

“How deep we goin’ into the woods, boss?” one of the men asked.

The field that warped reality and human minds wasn’t a precise thing with stable boundaries. Like any force of nature, it was dynamic, shifting as the magnetic fields of the world exerted force upon it and pulsing with its own forces in kind. And, like natural forces, it wasn’t all or nothing. They’d begin to experience subtle signs as they approached danger.

“Did anyone see that?” one of the Howler thugs gasped. “There was a— I swear, I saw...”

“What?” Paolo snapped.

“It was just over there. A bunch of miners getting into a rail car. But… they’re gone.”

Across the clearing sat the rusted remains of an old rail car on a broken line, unused for a decade and returning to nature. They were close to the edges of the field.

Ceòl turned back to the group and startled when he saw three more Howlers running at them, weapons drawn! But before he could reach for his pistol he blinked… and the men were gone.

“That’s far enough, I think.” Ceòl shook the images from his mind and hoped the field wouldn’t shift suddenly and fully envelope them all. “And a deal… is a deal.”

Paolo waved for Mindy and the men to go back the way they’d come. “You guys go. I’ll catch up in a minute.” When they made no move to leave, he snapped, “This is private!” Then he turned back to Ceòl. “I kept my word. Now give it back.”

Ceòl unbuttoned his pocket and Vera came scrambling to freedom. Daud and Billie gasped.

“I’ve enjoyed our brief reunion, Vera.” He thinned his lips tightly and brought the hand to his mouth in an imitation of a caste kiss. “But it’s time for you to go home.”

The hand jerked and pulled away in his grip.

“Vera, get over here!” Paolo hissed, turning his head to make sure his people were far enough away.

“That’s no way to talk to a lady, Paolo.” Ceòl tutted, then raised the hand to his face again. “He’s a bit low brow compared to what you’re used to, but don’t hold it against him. He didn’t have your upbringing.”

Paolo’s nostrils flared. “Vera,” he said, trying to sound sweet. “C’mon. These guys have somewhere to be. And so do we. I’ll bet there’s still some Eyeless left alive. You wanna slit some throats with me?”

The hand angled itself towards Paolo in interest, but refused to make the jump.

Paolo continued. “Bet they have lots of pretty shiny charms on their corpses.”

Vera’s fingers danced a bit on Ceòl’s palm, but still refused to leave him.

“We had our time in the Void, darling.” Ceòl stroked the weathered tattoo on the back of the hand. “But I have a new love in this world. And so do you.”

Vera balled into a fist for a moment, but then relaxed slowly. It leaped from his hand and practically flew on the breeze towards Paolo.

“Atta girl,” Paolo said, with a hint of affection.

Ceòl was glad he’d placed that trap at the base of Paolo’s shrine, because the man had murder in his eyes as he turned away from them.

“Don’t ever set foot in my district again! Any of you!” he called over his shoulder.

They waited until Paolo was out of sight before unzipping the duffel bag.

“Let’s hurry,” Daud said. “My head’s starting to feel… floaty. I just saw two different versions of Paolo and for a second I wasn’t sure which one was real.”

Billie turned the switch under the base of the chamber and the piece of the Void hummed to life! A wave of clarity washed over Ceòl, cool and sharp, and fog lifted from his mind. Billie and Daud breathed their own sighs of relief.

The climb would take more than a day in ideal conditions, and it was already dark. They’d make camp once they were far enough away that Paolo couldn’t turn back to seek retribution.

They walked in the dark woods, path lit by occasional slivers of moonlight. The only sounds were the growls of wild animals, Daud’s ragged breathing, and the hum of their device.

But eventually, Billie had to ask. “Was that who I think it was?”

Ceòl sighed. “Yes.”

Billie choked on a laugh. “She always rambled to street kids about her ‘special place’ at your side, but I figured she was just nuts.”

“She was,” Ceòl said. “I did what I had to do to get leverage over Paolo.”

Daud narrowed his eyes. “So you and Granny Rags never…”

“No!”

Daud quirked a smile. “The act was pretty convincing.”

Ceòl groaned and rubbed his temples.

* * *

Corvo came to awareness with the sound of hushed whispers. The voices were distant— or maybe his head was still fuzzy from the drugs, it was hard to say— but he kept his eyes closed and breathing steady. He didn’t want to advertise that he’d regained consciousness. 

He felt cold stone pressed against his cheek and judging from the throbbing ache in his bad shoulder, he’d been laying here for hours. The air smelled sharp with minerals— copper, iron… and silver. A mine, perhaps?

His stomach sank. If the Ascended already had him at the peak of Shindaerey, he’d been unconscious for well over a day! The hot stinging sensation in his neck indicated several clumsy injection sites, probably more sedatives as they made the journey.

He flexed his hands and was surprised to feel they weren’t manacled. Neither were his ankles. But the cold metal around his throat was obviously enough to keep him from leaving.

Corvo wanted to open his eyes just a crack, but if these people were smart he’d have a guard assigned to watch him. Opening his eyes now was a risk. He strained to listen to the voices.

“— study the effects on the Mark now that the Void is empty!”

“As much as I’d love to, the safest strategy is questioning. The only way to study his magic is without the field active. And we’d be idiots not to keep him contained!”

“He’s not contained right now!”

“He’s still drugged, and I’m nearly finished calibrating the harmonics. It’ll be ready soon.”

“How much time will we have with Attano before he succumbs to the illness?”

“Daud lasted months, and the prototype we used for him was far less sensitive than what I have prepared. We could get a year or more out of this subject.” Corvo heard the scrapping of metal and turning of gears somewhere across the room. “Our time with him won’t be wasted.”

“Like we wasted Daud? All those months of questioning, Ms. Michaels, and you got nowhere.”

“Jacobi and Yun were idiots,” someone snarled. “Every time I began to make progress they derailed the questioning with trivialities. And our containment device wasn’t nearly this sophisticated. We weren’t able to keep Daud lucid for long without risking an escape. Now that I’m among better educated peers, I’m sure were can get somewhere.”

Michaels! She was here with the Ascended!

Based on what he’d just overheard, the Ascended didn’t have his magic suppressed. Yet. If he could stay perfectly still and wait for an opportunity…

A long-suffering sigh came from a few feet away, just outside of Corvo’s reach if he had to guess. Whoever was assigned to guard him seemed distracted by the bickering.

Corvo inhaled slowly and cracked his eyes. He didn’t see much before he shut them again, just a flash of boots scattered about and a bunch of metal coils bored into the stone around him— presumably part of the containment device. Still, Corvo got a rough headcount. One guard stood a few feet away, and half a dozen more were at the base of a metal staircase next to a bank of electronics.From the positioning of the feet he glimpsed, most of the arguing cultists were facing away from him.

He wasn’t able to get a layout of the room but based on the echoes they were somewhere with a high ceiling. That meant they were deep into the mine. There’d be no darting to the exit and trying to lose them. Plus, once he was outside their base, he had no way to get back to Karnaca safely. He’d be lost in the woods on the mountain like Ceòl warned.

Corvo reviewed his options and risked a longer peek. This time he saw more. The chamber was huge! Bookcases rose to the ceiling at least fifty feet overhead. A series of walkways stretched from one hollowed out room to another. Beyond that, Corvo saw a tunnel with a slight incline. Up was good. Up was the way out.

But he’d need… there! On a nearby table he saw the thing they’d been after— the device that could counter the effects of the mountain. It glowed with a familiar energy. Michaels must have used it to get them here.

Now or never. They could turn this way any moment and activate his prison.

Corvo craned his head to look at the nearby guard. He focused his mind and reached out.

Possession was Corvo’s least favorite spell. Useful, certainly, but he hated the feeling of wearing another person, movements clumsy and slow. Vulnerable. Still, with the exception of strong magic users or people who’d been altered chemically, there was no way for a person to resist when he pulled himself into their minds and wore their skin.

The others continued to argue and Corvo piloted the man towards the table. The device holding the piece of the Void was heavier than it looked as the hands clumsily gripped it, but Corvo managed not to drop it and headed casually towards the tunnel. If he could get somewhere private and stash this body…

Past the quarreling cultists now, he entered the tunnel and slowly wandered up its path. He could feel his grip on the man starting to slip just as a woman rounded the corner!

“Henry? Is Attano awake?”

He couldn’t make Henry speak convincingly, so Corvo shoved the Void device at her chest.

She gasped and grabbed it. “What in the world are you—”

Corvo materialized just behind Henry as he lost his focus, snapped the man’s neck, then jumped into the woman before she had a chance to cry out! Henry collapsed to the floor but Corvo didn’t have time to hide the body. He needed to get out of here!

He hurried along the path and into another large chamber with old mining cars scattered about and a half dozen more cultists loitering around! He strode with purpose past their curious gazes and hoped there weren’t too many branches inside this mine.

He’d nearly rounded the next corner when someone cried out, “He’s escaped! Attano is gone!”

Corvo puppeted a hand to his host’s face and whipped her head around in shock to match the others, then scurried away when they all began to grab weapons and spread out. He was losing his grip on this one too and might not get another cultist to possess before he found the exit.

A burst of pain shot through the host’s body, and then his in turn as he materialized outside of her. They both lay twitching and the Void artifact crashed to the ground! The glass casing cracked and the humming faltered… then faded.

No! That was his only way out of here!

“Fascinating,” Dolores Michaels cooed. She kept her electric dart gun aimed at him as she crouched within his field of vision.

Another man came into view as well. “Indeed. I had no idea he could possess bodies. The transversals, bursts of air and rats I’ve seen through my communions with the Eye. But not this.”

“Is it new since the Outsider died?” someone asked.

“Or perhaps rarely used,” another suggested.

Michaels’ finger slid to the trigger of the gun. “We’ll ask him once he’s properly secured.”

Her finger squeezed, and Corvo saw a burst of light before darkness took him.


	20. Chapter 20

The trio made camp for the night in the shelter of a small cave. Billie and Ceòl prepared a fire while Daud rested. He’d skipped his evening doses of medicine in all the chaos. Now, his breathing came in labored gasps and his hands trembled.

Seeing the former assassin so weak tightened a knot low in Ceòl’s gut. There was nothing to be done but ease his symptoms. A century from now Ceòl might be able to repair the cascading failure of Daud’s bodily systems, but it wasn’t possible with this era’s limited technology.

Ceòl took the herbal breathing treatment from his bag and stirred it into a tin of boiling water over the fire. It did smell a bit like garbage when it reached temperature, he hated to admit.

“Steam. Five minutes.” He handed it to Daud wrapped in a thick cloth, and tossed him a second cloth to drape over his head. His tone brokered no argument.

Daud lowered his face and began to breathe.

Billie stood at the mouth of the cave and stared out into the darkness. “Paolo won’t be able to follow us this far, but Jacobi still has a device.”

“I don’t think Jacobi was kept in the loop about Corvo’s abduction.” Ceòl rummaged in the bottom of his bag for the pill bottles and tapped out a yellow and a white one for Daud. He handed them to Daud under the towel and waited for the man dry swallow before he continued.

“Shan Yun thought his Void device was the only one of its kind. Michaels and Jacobi were probably told the same thing. If they were in competition to be the next chosen by the cult, I doubt Michaels would have involved Jacobi and risked getting betrayed.”

“And Michaels will think we can’t follow her up the mountain,” Daud said, muffled from his place hunched over the steam bowl.

“Even so, there could be threats out here.” Billie thumbed the pistol at her hip.

Ceòl nodded. “The Ascended collect supplies from their Eyeless contacts periodically. We need to be on guard for cultists making a supply run.“

Five minutes passed and Daud lifted his face, flushed pink from the warm steam. “There’s a lot you’re not telling us,” he grumbled. “Billie and I figured out the broad strokes already, but we want to know everything. I think we deserve that after all of this.”

So Ceòl told them. Everything.

He told them about Delilah’s failed attempt to kill him. His time in Dunwall as a human, and his return to the Void. Delilah’s fate in a stone chrysalis. His failure to become a god again. The Eye of the Dead God, and the random assortment of visions it tossed at the cult in the years since it was reanimated. The Ascended’s decision to make space for a new god— Cecelia.

He didn’t know if Cecelia was a compatible sacrifice or not. But she was unwilling, and he was just as unwilling to let a friend die.

Billie pinched her lower lip between her teeth. “By keeping Cecelia away from them, are we dooming the world?”

Ceòl considered that. “It’s not as if there’s only one person who could ever merge with the Void.” He poked the base of the fire idly. “Few could. If you started sacrificing random people nearly all of them would be lives wasted. But at any given time there are several who’d be compatible.”

Of course, with millions of people in the empire, that was still like looking for a needle in a haystack.

“What’s your long-term plan?” Billie leaned forward and narrowed her eye. “Save Cecelia and let these lunatics murder someone else instead?”

Ceòl hung his head. “I don’t know what else to do.”

Ceòl watched the flames consume the kindling and sighed. Perhaps saving Cecelia was selfish. Someone had to be sacrificed eventually, didn’t they? Every prior cycle of upheaval had been averted with a sacrifice. 

“You never had a lot of power as a god, did you?” Daud’s question was soft, as if he were reexamining every interaction he’d ever had with the Outsider.

“I had knowledge.” Ceòl leaned back against the rough stone wall of the cave. “Which is far more useful.”

Daud pinned him with an unreadable look. “Clearly.”

Ceòl swallowed and held his gaze. Thankfully, Billie broke their silent staring contest.

“Even though this cult decided to… clear you out…” she said, “they still worshipped you. Can’t you command them to release Corvo and leave Cecelia alone?”

Ceòl snorted. “They never worshipped me. Many of them were obsessed with me, but that’s not the same thing. It would be more accurate to say they worship the Void, but even that’s not true. Deep down, the only thing these people worship is their own feeling of superiority. Anything that threatens those delusions, even their former god, will be destroyed.” Ceòl looked to his frail human hands. “I’ll need to redirect their fantasies of cosmic importance, not challenge them.”

And he only had until they reached the peak to figure out how.

* * *

The next day of climbing wore them all out and they had to stop and make camp for a second night. Ceòl wanted to continue in the dark, burning muscles and aching joints be damned. The Ascended would have had Corvo at their base for nearly a day now and every moment he was at their mercy risked his life! But Daud fell further behind with each passing hour, even with frequent stops for rest. He wouldn’t make it to the peak without a long sleep and more medicine. So Billie and Ceòl slept in shifts while Daud tried to recover overnight.

Their second morning on the mountain took them to where the carriage lines would have begun their final ascent to the peak of Shindaerey. The Ascended had destroyed the line as it left the ground on thick steel beams. They followed old footpaths that circled the mountain as the slope became too steep to climb head on. The trees thinned the further up the mountain they traveled and by the end of their second full day of climbing the peak was no longer obscured by thick forest.

Ceòl fought tears as they made camp for a third evening. If anything happened to Corvo…

He whimpered and fought back a sob. He couldn’t lose Corvo. Not so soon. The glimpse of the future he’d seen as he left the Void flashed behind his eyes— shin-deep in soil, shovel in hand, digging a grave— and Ceòl swallowed down a surge of bile in his throat. After everything he’d gone through to protect Corvo, if it ended like this…

They reached the small plateau of Shindaerey peak at the end of their third day of the exhausting journey. The sun tinged orange as it began to settle behind the mountains in the distance and cast fading light across the abandoned carriage station at the end of the line. A rusted sign read: Shindaerey Peak North Quarry.

They took shelter inside the old station and Daud laid down to rest before they ventured further.

“You can turn off the device here,” he whispered to Billie. The power source was abundant but not infinite. They’d need to conserve it just in case.

“Is that safe?”

“The hallucinations are less consuming the closer we get to the Eye. We’ll still see strange things, but our minds won’t slip away.”

“The calm at the center of the storm,” she said as she flipped the switch.

“Something like that.”

Billie let Daud sleep for over an hour. When he woke, Daud took to the rooftops. He returned after twenty minutes confident there were no cultists in the immediate vicinity.

“They tend to stick to the mine and the areas deeper into the complex,” Ceòl said.

It was oddly confident of them not to post any lookouts when they had someone like Corvo Attano prisoner. They probably assumed no one would be able to follow Michaels to them. Ceòl dared to hope that meant the Ascended still didn’t know about his new existence.

Billie shook her head. “I can’t believe people use to live and work here.” She took in the rising complex in the distance. “Hundreds at least.”

“Thousands, once people started finding silver,” Ceòl added.

“And then everyone wandered away and forgot.” Daud crossed his arms and stared at him. “Like they forgot you in Dunwall ten years ago.”

Daud took each of them by hand and transversed to the roof of the nearby warehouse as they made their way deeper into the mining town.

“There,” Ceòl said, pointing towards a narrow corridor. “Beyond the old barracks we’ll find the entrance. There’s a courtyard and an elevator beyond that. We’ll take it up and—”

“Up?” Billie asked.

“Once the quarry workers began hitting silver veins left and right, the company decided to hollow out the entire mountain, not just the granite-rich areas they’d originally sectioned off.” People had swarmed the makeshift city. Practically overnight it was abuzz with the clanking of pickaxes around the clock. “They began a new tunnel that works its way down. It only goes half as far as they planned, of course.”

“Hard to mine silver when you’re hallucinating alternate realities all around you,” Billie said.

Daud took them carefully from roof to roof, keeping a wary eye on their surroundings. And sure enough, their caution was warranted when they spotted three people in front of the gate, dressed in the same pale grey clothes.

“You know the rules,” the woman spat. “Seek no solace in mundane things.”

She aimed her pistol and shot him in the arm! Ceòl gasped and leaned forward for a better look but Daud ripped him back.

“What’re you doing?” he growled. “They can’t see us, let’s keep going.”

Ceòl risked another glance over the ledge. The wounded man on the ground was familiar. Which one was he again?

He squinted his eyes and inhaled sharply when he saw clearly. The architect! Antero! He might be useful.

“The man they just shot, I want him alive,” Ceòl whispered.

“Why?” Billie asked.

There wasn’t time to explain. “Please.”

Daud sighed and signaled for them to stay low. Then he disappeared. Billie took position on the ledge and aimed her crossbow.

On the street below, the man continued to wail through his pain.

“You had this coming and you know it,” the other cultist spat. He unholstered his firearm. “You dedicated years to the pursuit of wisdom! But now you fail to follow even our most basic tenets!”

“I only fed them every once in a while,” Antero said through gritted teeth. “Like the story of the lonely rat boy.”

“Your little pets were distracting your gaze from the Void.” She leaned over his shaking body and stroked his face. His dark skin was marred by a silvery growth crawling up from beneath his collar. The stone was beginning to take him.

“I don’t want to go to the Void anymore,” he whimpered. “I’ve seen what happens. The stone takes more than your body— it takes your mind! And your heart!” He looked up at them, pleading. “Don’t you see? We’re not becoming one with it! We’re not gaining wisdom! It’s just consuming us!”

“Don’t worry,” the man said. “You won’t have to become one with the Void after all.”

Daud materialized behind him and knocked the gun away just as the cultist fired! The shot went wide and Daud ran his sword through the man’s gut. Antero scrambled behind a dumpster! The woman startled but quickly recovered and took aim! But Billie was ready, and ended her with a bolt to the head.

Daud returned to the rooftop and helped them down, then they rounded the dumpster to find the wounded cultist.

Ceòl approached slowly. “You do know how the story of the lonely rat boy ends, don’t you?”

Antero froze. “H—how? It can’t be— You’re —”

The Ascended didn’t know about his new humanity! Good.

“Is Corvo still alive?” Ceòl snapped. Antero nodded and Ceòl released a shaky breath. “Let’s get out of sight and see to your wound.”

The nearby machine shop had thick doors and the four of them settled inside. Antero trembled so badly Ceòl nearly did more damage trying to stitch up his arm than the bullet had. But they finally stopped the bleeding and Ceòl mixed him something for the pain.

“Is it really you?” Antero whispered.

“In the flesh.”

“But we saw… I saw you disperse.”

“You people made it clear that I was no longer welcome,” he said, cold. “So, I relocated.”

Antero sniffled and looked away. “I wanted to explore the unknown. Ask questions people aren’t supposed to ask and find answers that lead to new questions. I never wanted to interfere with the Void. I never wanted to kill anyone. I never want to kill…”

Ceòl pulled over a stool from the nearby workbench. “You cast a white marble when you voted.” He heard a sharp intake of breath from Antero. “Not that it made a difference, but thank you.”

“The Envisioned didn’t stop us,” Antero sighed. “I thought if we were in the wrong they’d kill us rather than let us close to you. But they stood aside.”

Ceòl wasn’t shocked when the stone guardians let the Ascended pass. After all, he hadn’t been a true god for some time and if they had any echoes of consciousness left, they probably would have agreed with the decision to clear him out.

Antero twisted his hands together. “And now they’ve all vanished.”

“What?” Ceòl’s eyes snapped up from his feet.

“The Envisioned,” he repeated. Then he looked to the Billie and Daud to explain. “The… when we live this close to the hole in the world, we begin to change.” He waved to growth on his neck. “The cult that created the last god of the Void, um— him.” His eyes cut to Ceòl. “They still live, in a way. They wander the Void and the area around the quarry where one might access the ritual site. Guardians of a sort.”

“Vicious ones,” Ceòl added. “But you say they’ve all gone?”

“We didn’t often see them before. They only wandered through our quarters on occasion. But it’s been months since we’ve seen a single one of them.”

Ceòl considered that. There was nothing for the Envisioned the guard anymore, was there?

“How badly have we changed the course of things?” Antero asked.

“I’m only human now,” Ceòl replied. “How should I know?” It was a lie, at least in part. But Ceòl didn’t feel like offering up secret knowledge to any member of the Ascended, even if Antero was one of the more tolerable members. “Besides, I’m far more interested in what you know, Antero.”

The cultist looked warily to Daud and Billie. “I’ll tell you everything. I can never go back to my colleagues now. To the Void with them all.”

“I assume Dolores Michaels is here. But are there any other surprises I should be aware of?”

Antero nodded. “Annette and Yuri are toying with the harmonic sequencer again. They’ve modified it to be more sensitive than the last time it was used on a human subject.” His eyes slid to Daud and Antero swallowed thickly. “They want to keep Attano alive for as long as possible before his body succumbs.”

“Have they used it on Corvo yet?”

Antero nodded. “When he first arrived, Attano killed Henry and nearly escaped. Ever since, they’ve kept him chained in the library, contained by whatever frequency keeps his powers suppressed. That was two days ago.”

Two days of exposure wasn’t terrible, especially if they’d made modifications that reduced the lethality of the machine. Still, even at low levels, Corvo was at risk of complications later in life. And unless this world’s medical knowledge made leaps and bounds in the next twenty years…

None of that would matter if they didn’t save Corvo. Ceòl refocused.

He grabbed some sheets of paper from the nearby desks and spread them out in front on Antero. “Layout of the mine. Number of cultists. Guard rotations.” He slapped a pen into the man’s hand. “Jot it all down.” Then he added, “And what can you tell me about the design of the library where they’re holding Corvo. Specifics.”

“Such as?” Antero asked.

“Entrances and exits. Hiding spots. Alcoves.” Antero began to draw. As the sketch came together Ceòl made further requests. “I need the height of those walls. Angle of incline. Building materials.”

He’d been thinking about how to redirect the cult’s focus and after two days Ceòl could only think of one thing crazy enough to work. But how would he pull it off?

As Antero finished an intricately detailed architectural sketch of the chamber from several different angles, Ceòl felt the corners of his mouth tug upwards. He ran his fingers over one section of the sketch that caught his eye— a small platform. If these drawings were accurate…

Ceòl took another sheet of paper and made some sketches of his own. “And everyone is gathered around Corvo here?” He pointed to a spot in the center of the gallery.

Antero nodded.

“Where is the knife right now?”

Antero’s hand froze on the paper. “Malchiodi left it in the Void. He put it back into the high priests’ hands.”

Ceòl smiled. “Perfect.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> barreling towards the end now...

Ceòl boiled some water over a torch in the corner of the machine shop and prepared another breathing treatment for Daud. Even the smallest cough would echo in the depths of the Ascended’s hideout.

They left Antero with instructions to lock the thick doors behind them. If he was still around when they came out of the mine— if they came out of the mine, Ceòl coldly reminded himself— he hoped Antero could be of further use. If Antero ran, they’d have to track him down. He knew too much not to be dangerous and Ceòl had plans to keep him close. But he shoved those worries to the back of his mind as they moved towards the cargo elevator.

Normally, there’d be some cultists milling about the main yard. But according to Antero, Corvo’s interrogation had everyone’s attention. Most of them were either in the main library or in the surrounding chambers.

“Can’t pick them off one by one then,” Billie had grumbled.

And a loud ambush was too risky. So Ceòl directed Daud to keep them high up and in the shadows as much as possible.

Antero’s sketches proved to be astonishingly accurate. They made their way up the elevator and through a gap in the walls between the old mining offices and the work tunnels. And sure enough, everything he’d drawn was correct to the inch. The the old ventilation pipes Antero sketched were in the exact location shown, forming a delicate walkway near the tunnel ceilings.

Daud kept them moving from pipes to ledges down a long descending passage until they reached the first grand chamber. There wasn’t always room for the three of them on each perch, and the old man had to backtrack and place Billie and Ceòl at various spots along the route to make sure they all had a safe place to crouch while the occasional cultist ambled around.

Still, they only saw a half dozen people in the grand chamber beneath them. The rest were probably further in, crowded around Corvo.

Ceòl held out a flat palm to signal Billie and Daud to be still and strained his ears. Three cultists huddled in an alcove below him and exchanged hushed whispers.

“He’s barely stopped speaking for two days and we still know nothing useful!” a woman hissed. Her eyes glowed yellow behind the irises and silvery stone covered half of her face like a mask.

“He’s stalling,” a man said. He was a newer member. His eyes were still human and Ceòl saw no traces of the silver stone that indicated long-term exposure to the mine. “But why bother? No one’s coming to his rescue. We’ve already explained it’s impossible to be followed here.”

“Perhaps he doesn’t know anything useful,” another man said, voice drol and amused.

“Impossible,” the woman huffed. “We saw how much attention he was paid by the Outsider. The Eye showed us half a dozen meetings between them, and that was a random sampling. The real number is likely in the hundreds or more! There’s something special about Attano.”

“And the woman the Void showed us— Malchiodi’s selection— she’s close to Attano as well,” the first man said. “It can’t be coincidence.”

The woman leaned out of the alcove and glanced down the tunnel. Coast clear, she leaned back in and whispered to the others. “Am I the only one wondering if we acted rashly by listening to Malchiodi?”

“Thank the Void someone else is willing to say it!” The clear-faced man threw his arms up. “I know the purge would have been necessary eventually. We were within our rights, but…”

“It was too soon!” the other man agreed. “That echo of the Outsider spoke to us! We could have used it!”

“And now nothing remains of it. No fragments or relics, like we have of the Eye.”

“The spirit of the Outsider would have been better than the Eye! The Eye isn’t conscious. It’s a piece of a corpse, twitching with energy. The spirit we spoke to in the Void…”

“If we’d found some way to capture it,” the woman said, wistfully.

The first man sighed. “Can you imagine if we had the Outsider captive instead of Attano?”

Good. Corvo was alive and cooperating enough not to be tortured but giving them nothing useful. And if the other cultists were this frustrated, Ceòl’s crazy plan might work.

He waited until the gossiping Ascended were huddled closely together before waving to Daud for a retrieval. They made their way further down the tunnel, and past the living quarters used by the cultists. The accommodations were sparse— thin mattresses with wool blankets and footlockers for storage— unsurprising since the cultists lived in a secluded mine. Still, some distant part of Ceòl admired the follow through.

Most of these people were former nobility, great scholars, or achievers of some significant accomplishment. They’d had material comfort in their previous lives. That they actually gave up their possessions to focus on the study of “something greater” would have been admirable in different context.

But these people eschewed everything about humanity that made it worthwhile. They didn’t just give up their material wealth. They abandoned all attachments— family, friends, lovers. Some poor nobleman tried to bring his favorite hound with him when he finally received the invitation to “ascend.” The cultists made him shoot the poor animal himself, and then murdered him when he shed a tear.

If only they knew just how boring that made them in the eyes of a god.

The communal study area lay up ahead and the three of them kept low. There were no high stone ceilings in the narrow passageway and they had to creep along the wooden floors. Luckily, no one was studying.

Daud scouted ahead and returned after a few minutes. “They’re all down below, including Michaels,” he whispered. “And I saw that platform you circled on Antero’s sketches.”

Ceòl unrolled the papers on a nearby desk. “It’s in this spot exactly?”

Daud nodded. “Exact dimensions too. It’s creepy how accurate this guy’s memory is.”

“Well, he did design the library.”

The Ascended had recruited Antero early on for his expertise in renovating the mine into a livable area. His skills had gone woefully underutilized ever since the chambers were functional.

Daud took them high again, perched in the rafters above the library. This high up, Ceòl’s legs shook and his vision tilted. Daud kept a steady hand on him. Billie, who’d spent plenty of time on high ledges in her days with Daud, didn’t need anyone’s help for balance.

Far below, Ceòl watched the crowd of cultists— their clothing a sea of pale grey— crowd around a dome of shimmering energy. Corvo lay chained to the floor inside that field by a thick metal ring circling his neck. His lucidity and ability to use his powers would depend on the frequencies they were using to contain him, and since no one had any weapons trailed on him, Ceòl had to assume Corvo was powerless at the moment.

But as far as being lucid enough to speak…

“—within this giant orchard. I’m not sure what kind of fruit was growing on the trees. It was native to Pandyssia, I think. I wanted to pluck one and try it, but wasn’t sure if I should. Would it have tasted like the real fruit? Or would it have tasted like what I imagined the fruit would taste like? I didn’t pick it so I guess I’ll never know. But on our next visit, he took me to an old theater. The actors wore these masks that reminded me of Overseers…”

Ceòl rubbed a hand over his face. Storytelling wasn’t a bad counter-interrogation tactic. It wasted time and kept your captors focused as they waited for scraps of useful information among a sea of rambling. And since the Ascended lived in isolation, they seemed to be eating it all up! They wanted to know about the Void and Corvo wasn’t holding back. His experiences in that place were probably not what the Ascended had imagined though.

And Corvo had been at this for two days? His voice sounded raw as he described their early courtship in exacting detail. Ceòl tried to control a soft grin that spread across his face.

“And you know that saying? ‘Outsider’s crooked cock?’ Well, it’s not accurate.”

Ceòl bit his hand to muffle the sound of him choking on his own spit. “Get me to the platform,” he whispered in Daud’s ear. “And once we’re there, you have to be absolutely silent.”

“I’ll stay here in case there’s trouble,” Billie said. The perch was almost directly above the crowd and she readied a grenade. All she had to do was pull the pin with her teeth and drop it straight down. A large boulder within the dome of Corvo’s prison could provide him cover, and as tightly packed as the Ascended were— crowded close to hear the mildly embellished details of Corvo’s raunchy story— one grenade would do a lot of damage.

Ceòl had half a mind to tell her to go ahead and drop the ordnance. But, it wouldn’t kill all of the cultists. And then there’d be a firefight with Corvo chained and taking cover behind a rock. No. They’d try being devious first.

Daud went ahead to recheck the area— the platform was next to a long walkway and they couldn’t risk a passerby noticing their perch. When he returned his forehead creased with worry.

“No one on the upper level. I checked all the way down. But there’s something…” He scratched the back of his neck. “There’s something powerful down that way.”

The Eye.

“We won’t need to go that direction. But if this works, they’ll all be scrambling to get to it by the time I’m finished talking. So be prepared to get me back to the rafters quickly.”

He nodded to Billie and then they were off. One transversal to a narrow ledge, then another. Finally Ceòl felt his feet hit the platform. According to Antero, this had been a construction space when the highest bookshelves were being installed. The cultists performed their own labor by necessity and had to bolt harnesses into the stone and spread these platforms all over the cavern. Most were dismantled when construction finished but a few remained, forgotten by everyone except the architect with an eidetic memory.

Daud did as he’d been told and stayed silent while Ceòl got a feel for the sound of the space.

Antero didn’t intend to do it, but based on what Ceòl saw of the surrounding structures, the angles of the walls and the smooth stone…

This spot could be used as a whispering wall.

Places like this had fascinating acoustics where sound was transmitted in unexpected ways. Some would allow the waves to flow with little deterioration to a far away spot. Others would allow for unique echoing. But if Ceòl’s math was right, this one would be even better for his purposes. 

Ceòl leaned his head against the cold rock and tested a small sigh. Nothing! He shifted forward, tilted his head inward and sighed again. One of the cultists gasped and look around, but then shook his head and returned his attention to Corvo. Ceòl sighed a few more times, shifting and experimenting, until he found it the precise alignment!

The sorrowful sigh fell over the library like a shroud, his voice everywhere and nowhere. The gathered cultists stiffened and shot gazes to one another. A few pulled weapons.

“What was that?” “Who’s there?” “Where’s it coming from?”

Even Corvo perked up and looked around.

“It’s empty,” Ceòl whimpered. “The Void. It needs…” He inhaled a shaky breath. “It needs…”

His pitiful whimpers reached every ear in the chamber.

Malchiodi spun in a tight circle. “That can’t be who I think—”

“I’d recognize that voice anywhere,” said Annette, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

“But how?” Yuri gasped.

“I fell.” Ceòl kept his voice soft, almost childlike. He needed to create a certain impression and the Ascended already thought of him as a helpless, confused spirit. “I’m between. Fading.”

“We are in a unique location here,” Yuri said. “The Void is close. If Malchiodi didn’t perform the ritual correctly…”

“Now just you wait,” Malchiodi hissed. “We all saw it disperse. We all saw my success.”

“Shut up and let it speak!” Annette shouted. She waved her hands for silence and the murmuring cultists quieted down. The few who were loitering in the other chamber even came running in, then skidded to a halt and obeyed her silent commands.

“I am fading. And the Void… why haven’t you filled it?” Ceòl kept perfectly still. They probably couldn’t see him from this angle but the cultists were looking around now. Thankfully, Billie was hidden by the metal beams above their heads.

“We’re in the process of obtaining the sacrifice!” Malchiodi shouted. “It won’t be much longer. Once a new team lands in Dunwall…”

“Dunwall?” Ceòl asked. “Why Dunwall?”

The Ascended froze.

“The new sacrifice, the one who walks unseen…” Malchiodi said.

“Why do you think she’s the one?”

The cultists looked to one another in panic.

Ceòl grinned wide but tried not to let it seep into his voice. “When all of you came to free me from my suffering, I saw.” He made a small pained sound. “I saw you there. I looked you in the eyes. And in that moment…” The Ascended held their breath and waited. “I thought you knew.”

“Who do you mean, spirit? Me? Is it…” Malchiodi gulped. “Am I chosen?”

“He looked me in the eyes!” Yuri shouted. “And I admit, I did feel something.”

“He looked at me!” Annette cried. “And ever since that day, I’ve felt a tug, like I’m being drawn back to the Void. It must mean…”

“Spirit!” Malchiodi cried out. “Who among us is worthy? Do you know a name? Can you speak?”

“Ascended…” Ceòl said, his voice fading to a whisper. “In your heart… you know.”

He squeezed Daud’s hand and they blinked away. From the perch fifty feet above the gathered cultists, they watched.

“It’s me!” Annette announced. “I know it is! I’ve dedicated my life to studying the universal language. I won’t deny my destiny!”

She took off towards the stairs, with all the other cultists at her heels.

“It’s me!” shouted Yuri. “He looked me in the eyes and I was forever changed! Annette, you’ve always been full of yourself!”

“If I’m so full of myself then the knife won’t turn me! But if I get to it first…”

Malchiodi scrambled behind them, knocking his colleagues out of the way, even shoving some of them back down the stairs. “It’s me! It was always me! I was the one who figured out the spell word! I was the one the Void trusted with the knowledge of the knife’s full power!”

Every single one of them rushed to the upper level to commune with the Eye of the Dead God. And from there, to navigate their way to the tear in reality.

“We should hurry,” Ceòl said. “Once they commune they’ll head back down to the main yard. They’ll be between the seams, but they could still see us.”

Daud got the three of them back to the lower level and Ceòl rushed the control panel. He was distantly impressed with how much progress the cult had made fine-tuning the field to delay the lethal effects on the human body, but it wasn’t enough and he gritted his teeth as it powered down.

“Ceòl,” Corvo groaned. His voice was hoarse from two days of storytelling. “When I heard you I almost thought…”

Ceòl cut him off with a heated kiss. “Let’s get you out of here.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short wrap-up chapter before a big confrontation in Ch 23...

They hurried out of the mine and back to the machine shop beyond the main gates. Daud’s breath came in wet gasps and Corvo’s legs shook as he walked. They wouldn’t make it down the mountain tonight, but the machine shop where they left Antero was defensible. Billie ringed the perimeter of the shop with stun mines in case any cultists tried to approach in the night.

Antero had locked the doors behind them, but opened up at Ceòl’s request. Corvo stiffened when he saw the cultist and Ceòl patted his arm reassuringly.

“This is Antero. He’s defecting.”

Billie settled Daud on a cot in the far corner to rest. Once he fell into a restless sleep she checked the windows and main door. “Secure enough, but we should sleep in shifts tonight.”

With perimeter security in place and Billie on watch, Ceòl settled himself in the center of the workshop and mixed medicine by thin beams of moonlight streaming in through the high windows. His body felt numb as he calculated dosages for Corvo’s body mass in his head. This should never have happened. If he’d been thinking about anything other than himself, if he’d gotten over his personal hangups and just moved faster with Shan Yun—

He broke from his self-loathing when Corvo settled into a chair a few feet away. His legs trembled as he lowered himself, still a bit unbalanced on his feet.

“That was a clever plan,” he whispered, voice a bit hoarse. “But what are the chances that one of the cultists actually…”

“Becomes a new god?” Ceòl scoffed. “Impossible.” He paused. “Well, improbable.”

“Ceòl…” Corvo said, warning.

“Very few people have the potential! I’m confident that any cultist who turns the knife on themselves will die.”

Billie peered through the peep slide on the door and huffed. “They won’t all go through with it.”

Corvo nodded. “When they run out of sacrifices among themselves they’ll make another attempt on Cecelia. And if they decide she’s too difficult to grab, they’ll find someone else.“

The most dangerous cultists would remove themselves from existence voluntarily. But Billie and Corvo were right. They would be survivors, and he’d need a plan to deal with them.

Corvo sighed. “We’re in no condition to fight them. We need to get back to Karnaca and regroup. But we also can’t leave them alone long enough to find refuge somewhere else.”

“Once they run out of volunteers at the altar, they’ll consult the Eye for guidance. That could take days, if not weeks,” Ceòl said. “While they’re busy doing that, we deal with the Eyeless. With Dolores Michaels out of the picture, we can disrupt their operations while there’s a small power vacuum. When the Eyeless stop leaving supply caches on the outskirts of Karnaca, the Ascended will be forced to abandon the quarry.“

Corvo scratched underneath his chin. “We can recruit the Howlers can pick off any Ascended who try to make their way into the city.”

Billie hummed. “We’ll need to keep a close eye on Paolo if we involve him. If he learns about the Eye from a captured cultist, we could have a new problem to deal with.”

“And you may need to soothe Paolo’s ruffled feathers before he does you any favors now,” Ceòl said, not taking his eyes off his chemical mixture.

“What’d you do?” Corvo asked.

But before Ceòl could answer, Antero cleared his throat in the far corner. “I can help,” he offered shyly. “I know the location of an emergency cache they’d go to if deliveries from the Eyeless stopped. Plus, I can tell you who they’d contact for help if they fled the mountain.”

“Good.” Corvo shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, despite the balmy evening air.

Ceòl began mixing new ingredients into the powdered formula to reduce fever. He prepared the next step of the concoction as his mind reeled. There would be a lot to deal with later.

Once the the quarry was rid of cultists, the vision-inducing corpse of his predecessor would have to be sealed up. It would grow dormant on its own eventually, but when it did the field protecting the mountain would dissipate and people would rediscover the old mining complex. There’d need to be a cover up to explain why no one remembered the place. Ceòl made a few mental notes about how to quarantine the dead god’s energy permanently and craft some convincing historical records.

But that could wait for now.

Ceòl finished mixing ingredients and funneled them into a few capsules for Corvo. “Take one now,” he said. “Then another one every four hours for the next day.”

Corvo looked to Daud’s sickly and exhausted form and then to the capsules. “Is this to prevent…”

“Yes.” Ceòl said softly.

Corvo was only captive for two days, Ceòl reminded himself. It could be decades before he got sick. But he would get sick. Yet another inevitability over which Ceòl had no control. His stomach soured as the questions tore through his thoughts.

When would Corvo take ill and in what way? How many of the remaining Ascended would they have to hunt down in the coming years? What steps should Emily take to transform the Empire of the Isles into something fair and sustainable?

There was no way to know. He was a single point in time and space, trapped in a linear timeline. And yet— he gazed at Corvo and smiled— he also had the potential to live a privileged life, full of love and comfort. Ceòl took a calming breath. Even with so much out of his control, he had more power than most. And he vowed to use it.

Corvo interrupted his reverie. “How much time do we have? Before the Void… before it all…” He waved his hand overhead.

“Centuries.” For this reality, at least. Others would decay much faster. A few of them would only have a matter of years. But Corvo didn’t need to worry himself about those.

“And what can we do? Can we prevent it without murdering someone?”

A few months ago, Ceòl would have thought it useless to try. But was it? This timeline he found himself living in was unlike anything he’d ever seen. The unlikely and impossible all came to fruition here. So perhaps “saving the world” wasn’t such a futile endeavor after all.

“I don’t know. But I want to find out.” He sidled up to Corvo and kissed the top of his head. “When I began this mission, all I wanted was save my friend’s life. I was prepared to let the Ascended fulfill their goal, so long as it didn’t touch anyone I knew.But now…”

Now the idea of letting some power-hungry humans, clamoring for “wisdom” take care of the Void felt irresponsible.

Ceòl squared his shoulders. “I’d like to take you up on your offer about the Academy of Natural Philosophy.”

Corvo perked up. “You changed your mind?”

Ceòl looked at the primitive alchemical supplies at his feet. Decades from now, when Corvo’s skin turned yellow and he struggled for breath, humanity will have made astounding advances in medical science. Ceòl was going to make sure of it.

But that wasn’t the only reason he needed access to the Academy.

“Once I’ve earned a degree in… whatever I decide on, I’ll have discoveries to make, not to mention social and professional connections to foster.” His mind reeled with a list of things he’d need to accomplish in the coming years.

Billie strode over and narrowed her eye at his scheming. “Why the change of heart?”

“I’m not watching from the Void now. I live here. I do want to shape this world for the better, but I’ll need help. Hence, the Academy.”

Billie put her hand on her hip, unconvinced.

Ceòl chuckled to himself. She was clever. So he admitted, “And, in addition to advancing human knowledge, I’ll be around the best minds in the empire. I’d like to get to know them all, and figure out which of them I can can trust.”

Corvo sat up straight. “Trust with what?”

Ceòl gazed at his human hands. Four thousand years after a cult murdered him in the name of preventing chaos, a new one rose up to take their place. All it took was a decade and some visions for a new group to coalesce, ready to repeat history.

There would always be intelligent people starved for a sense of purpose in this world. That was a universal constant in all the chaos he’d seen across time. It never failed to amaze him, the horrors a person would tolerate— even welcome— in exchange for some “secret knowledge.”

If people like the Ascended were a constant, he knew better than to think he could ever wipe them out. Even if they killed every cultist who stumbled off this mountain in the coming weeks, it would only be a matter of time before some new group assembled, eager to appease the Void. Historically, that meant a sacrifice. But did it have to?

If you can’t beat them, join them. Or better yet, lead them.

“Ceòl,” Corvo repeated. “Figure out who at the Academy can be trusted… with what?”

“With the knowledge of what’s happening.” He lifted his chin. “I’ll need help to figure out if there’s any way to avoid the inevitable. If there is some way to stabilize the Void without killing anyone, I’ll find it. But I’ll need help.”

Billie stiffened. “Are you going to create you own cult?”

“Not a cult!” Ceòl huffed. “A group of people with a common goal.”

She rolled her eye. “Any time you create something larger than yourself, you run the risk of it growing out of your control. You take a normal person and give them a taste of something greater…” She looked to her hand, and then to Daud’s sleeping form in the far corner. “What you create could become something very different than you intended.”

Ceòl hung his head. “That’s a fair point.”

Bille returned to her lookout spot and casually called over her shoulder, “So count me in.”

“What?” Ceòl startled.

“I said, count me in. If you’re starting a save-the-world club, I’m there.”

He smiled at Corvo. “See? Recruitment’s already going well!”

“I’m proud of you,” Corvo said. “Even if it means I need to find a new apprentice.”

Ceòl paused. “Not necessarily.”

“You want to attend the Academy full-time _and_ be a spymaster?”

Ceòl sucked his lower lip between his teeth. He doubted he’d spend much time studying, though to keep up appearances he would need to attend the classes. But Corvo had a point. Millenia of knowledge or not, there were only so many hours in a day and the empire needed a spymaster who wasn’t as distracted as he was going to be.

“Why did Cecelia turn you down when you offered her the apprenticeship?”

“She said the title had too many strings attached.”

And it did. Cecelia wouldn’t be nearly as effective in her duties if too many people knew her face. But something told Ceòl that her hesitations about the job ran deeper than that. Cecelia simply wasn’t the type to stand in the spotlight. She didn’t like being watched. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t be a spymaster.

“What if she took on the responsibilities of spymaster, minus the strings,” Ceòl suggested. “If Cecelia was given a hefty raise in her salary, she’d be more than happy to take on those duties. I’ll be the handsome face of the empire’s intelligence service but only a part-time spymaster behind the scenes.”

Corvo ran his thumb over the back of Ceòl’s hand. “You're going to be an amazing spymaster _and_ natural philosopher. You’ll be famous in no time.” But his face fell as something dawned on him. “But when the surviving members of the Ascended figure out you’re not a roaming spirit in the mine, they’ll seek you out, either for answers or vengeance. You did just kill several of them. We can try to scoop up as many of them as we can once they flee the mountain, but there are no guarantees.”

Corvo was right. There were no guarantees anymore. Only best guesses and wide-ranging contingencies.

Ceòl laced their fingers. No matter what happened next, they’d deal with it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A [short ramble](https://soontobecyborg.tumblr.com/post/184414840493/post-ch-22-ramblingsmore-ce%C3%B2l-attends-the) about how things play out later in Ceòl's life


	23. Chapter 23

Emily dropped into the chair behind her desk with a heavy sigh. The day’s meetings had dragged on well past their scheduled time and she’d spent the hours after that putting out small fires all over the Tower. But the moment she was free, she’d made a beeline for her office where a personal message from Corvo waited.

She tore open the letter with an excitement she hadn’t felt since she was a young girl waiting to hear word of his travels. The envelope fell to the floor in pieces as her eyes darted over the words. But to her surprise, the letter wasn’t written using the code they’d agreed upon. This one was longer, and used an elaborate cypher. Corvo obviously had a lot more than a few sentences to relay.

Emily dug out her code book and began translating Corvo’s brief on the recent events in Karnaca. Her eyes widened as she read about everything that had happened!

The Ascended were rudderless for now, but her spymasters would need to keep a close watch on whichever members didn’t turn the knife on themselves. The Eyeless gang was in even worse shape. Shan Yun fled to Tyvia after he woke up from being drugged, and Dolores Michaels was still missing. Whether she survived the altar or not remained to be seen. As for Ivan Jacobi, he’d been arrested by the Grand Guard when evidence of his serial killing spree had been anonymously gifted to a local reporter.

With their three leaders out of the game, Jeanette Lee tried to take over the Eyeless. Unfortunately, the location of her safe house was discovered by the head of a rival gang. It didn’t take long for the Howlers to move in on the Eyeless’ old territory and they were in the process of carving up Cyria district at the time of Corvo’s writing.

Emily chewed on her thumbnail as she read about the new distribution of underworld power in the city. Corvo had an arrangement that kept Paolo and his gang in play as the lesser of many potential evils. Her father was a firm believer in having allies in low places. But it still rankled that this gang was allowed to continue existing at all.

She ran a hand over the back of her neck and dug her fingers into the muscle to work out the tension. Corvo knew far more than she did about the delicate balances of power that operated through unofficial channels. So she’d defer to his wisdom.

The letter said he and Ceòl would remain in Serkonos for a few more weeks to see if anyone came down from the mountain— apparently the Howlers were poised at the edges of the city to catch anyone trying to enter Karnaca from the direction of Shindaerey. But they’d be continuing to work out of the Grand Palace during that time, so Emily suspected their business was only partially related to the mission.

Warmth bloomed in her chest. Good for them. They deserved whatever honeymoon they could make for themselves as they began this new chapter of their lives.

She put the letter aside and reached for the wrapped parcel that came with it. The nondescript brown paper tore away to reveal four leather-bound volumes.

Ceòl finished his project!

The books were heavy and thick. It would take her weeks to read and digest the information, and longer to understand it well enough to make informed decisions for the empire. But with a four thousand year-old former god as an adviser, she felt a bit less intimidated at the prospect.

Emily reached for Volume 4: the 50-year Plan, heart in her throat as she opened the cover. But her face fell when she turned to Chapter One and saw… nothing!

She flipped to the end, then back to the beginning again. It was empty! The entire plan was blank pages! She opened the cover and the title page caught her eye. A handwritten note had been scribbled on the back.

> _Emily,_
> 
> _I knew you’d skip to the last volume. And as you can see, I’ve left it blank. These pages are—_

The sound of suddenly displaced air drew her focus and Emily turned with a huff. Had Corvo traveled back to Dunwall in secret? 

But the man standing beneath the portrait of her mother wasn’t her father. His face was gaunt and his hands shook as he clasped them behind his head. It wasn’t until he lowered himself to his knees on skinny legs that Emily finally found the breath to speak.

“Who are—”

“You can save your coin,” the man interrupted. His voice was deep and graveled. “I’m turning myself in.”

That voice.

Emily’s stomach lurched and she reached for the letter opener before she even felt herself rising from the chair. Her eyes darted to her pistol and sword, both hanging on the wall near the door.

“Guard!” she shrieked. Her voice sounded thin and high, foreign to her own ears. A beat passed, then another. “Alexi!”

But there was only silence from the other side of the door.

“I— uh.” Daud darted his eyes to the office door and scratched the back of his head, sheepish.

Emily lunged, a smooth practiced motion from her years of training, and stopped just before she drove the tip of the letter opener into the side of his neck. “What did you do?”

Daud’s eyes went wide. “They’re just unconscious. I wanted to give you…” He gulped. “Some privacy for whatever you plan to do to me.”

She kept the tip of the improvised weapon pressed to the thick vein. One quick jab and she could—

Emily dragged him up by the hair and to the door. “Open it,” she snarled.

He did. The thick oak door swung inward and Emily saw Alexi slumped against the wall just outside. She began to press the sharp implement through Daud’s skin until she noticed the steady rise and all of Alexi’s chest. Unconscious, just like he said.

Her worst fear allayed, she shoved Daud back inside the office and slammed the door.He stood by the fireplace and slid his hands into his pockets, then quickly back out again, as if unsure what to do with them.

“Why are you here?” Emily walked backwards, never taking her eyes off of him, until she reached her weapons on the wall. Once her fingers wrapped around the comforting steel of her pistol and sword, she tossed the letter opener aside. “Answer me! What are you doing here?”

“Corvo,” Daud said softly. “I promised Corvo.”

Her knuckles strained against the hilt of her sword, grip firm even as her chin wobbled. “He knew where you were all along?”

“No!” Daud held his hands out in a gesture of peace, then dropped them quickly again. “He didn’t know I was in Karnaca until after he arrived. In exchange for his help with everything, I…” He sighed. “I’m here to face the consequences of what I did.”

He stepped forward, arms limp at his sides.

“Stay back!” she cried. Emily shuffled away, sword extended towards him. “If you get within striking range I’m going to kill you. And I have questions first.”

But every word she tried to utter dissolved on her tongue.She spent the last two and half years fantasizing about what she’d say once she finally had Daud in custody. Yet, now she was speechless. 

Finally, Emily forced out, “My father was in Karnaca to stop the cult hunting Cecelia. What did he help _you_ with? ”

Daud pursed his lips and his eyes darted to the floor. When he looked back up he said, “My friend rescued me from the Eyeless a while back. I was being held captive.”

Emily’s lip curled. “Friend. You mean Billie Lurk.” 

Daud nodded. “She stayed undercover with them to see what they were up to. That’s when we found out about the plot to take Cecelia.” He cleared his throat, but the sound turned raspy in his lungs. Daud went pale and for a moment Emily thought he’d double over, but he righted himself and continued. “By then, Billie was in way too deep to run. And since Corvo’s goals aligned with ours…”

Emily snorted and looked down her nose at the old assassin. He’d certainly seen better days. “You got captured by a _gang_?” she scoffed. “Losing your edge? You look like shit.”

“I look like shit because—” Daud cut himself off. After a moment he shrugged. “Life on the run takes a toll.” He kept his eyes on the floor, as if she were some wild animal he was trying not to challenge. “As for losing my edge…” He chuckled. “I must be. I got captured twice over. First, the Harpooners knocked me out. But when I woke up, the Eyeless had taken me from them.”

Emily paused. If the Harpooners captured Daud successfully, then who’d killed them? The Eyeless? She’d read Corvo’s reports about their ruthlessness and obsession with magic.

“What did the Eyeless want with you?”

Daud’s head snapped up. “You don’t know?” But he didn’t make her repeat her question. “They were after a relic the Outsider sent me to find— a knife. And I found it. But then your mercenaries found me.”

_The_ knife? The thing the cult used against Ceòl and started… all of this?

No. Daud couldn’t be trusted and neither could his story.

“Liar! You killed the Harpooners! You left their bodies scattered around the docks of Dabokva like confetti! You burned that couple alive to make your escape! The boy confirmed it!”

“What?” Daud’s face fell.

Emily kept her eyes on Daud as she walked backwards to her desk. She fished around for the file and slid it across the floor to Daud’s feet.

She watched Daud’s face as his eyes darted over the words. When he flipped to the survivor’s statement, he froze.

“Misha thinks I’m the one who—” Daud’s mouth snapped shut. He looked away and dropped the report to the floor, resigned.

The report from the Tyvian Guard speculated that Daud lit the house on fire to get away from the Harpooners, who then pursued him to the docks where he killed them all and got away. Emily had no reason to question the guards’ account except there had been a survivor— a teenage boy named Misha. Somehow, he’d ended up on the rooftop of the building across from his house. He didn’t remember what happened or how he got there, only that he went to sleep in his bed and woke up trembling on the roof of another building hours later.

She’d assumed one of the noble Harpooners recused the boy and got him to safety, only to be murdered at the docks later. But how would a normal person have gotten Misha to the neighbor’s roof and why?

Unless… the person who rescued him so selflessly had supernatural powers.

“If it wasn’t you, who set that fire? The Eyeless?”

Daud thinned his lips and growled, “The Harpooners.”

“You’re wrong. The Harpooners operated clean. They staked their reputations on it. It’s why I offered the bounty to them.”

Daud rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “The Harpooners _did_ operate clean. For months they got closer and closer to me. And every time, I hid behind civilians like a coward, knowing they’d never risk innocent lives. But then…”

Emily’s stomach dropped. “The Fugue Feast.”

“You dangle that much coin in front of men who only get paid upon delivery, then drag the chase out for long enough…”

She swallowed around a lump in her throat. “And as long as they acted during the Feast, they didn’t break their code.”

“People and their moral technicalities,” Daud grumbled, more to himself than her. “Well, that family still died. Misha won’t stop being an orphan just because the calendar started over.”

“So I’m just as bad as you?” she snapped. “I posted too high a bounty? It drove the Harpooners to commit arson? That dead couple is my fault?” Emily’s eyes stung. “I’m a murderer now? Is that it?”

“No! I didn’t mean—” He shifted from one foot to another. “I didn’t tell you all of that to make you feel guilty. Any decision can have unintended consequences, but you didn’t burn that house down, Emily.”

Emily’s head snapped up. She tossed her gun aside and dropped her sword. “Don’t speak my name! And don’t try to impart some ‘sage wisdom’ about decisions having consequences,” she spat. “I’m an Empress! Every choice I make, every paper I sign, could lead to someone’s suffering!”

Emily rushed into his space, teeth bared. “Every day, I’m faced with the choices I make and the people I try to help, but end up hurting anyway!”

Nose-to-nose with him now, Emily’s breath came in huffs. She locked eyes with her mother’s killer. “You’re the one who needs to learn a lesson about consequences! Not me!”

Emily roared, mouth open wide enough to feel a twinge in her jaw. She reared her head back and slammed it into Daud’s forehead. But the thick-skulled bastard was barely phased by the blow!

She swung an elbow and connected with his chin! His eyes rolled back.

“My mother cared about people! All of her people!”

Daud tilted forward and Emily launched her knee into his side. “She wanted to make this world better while scum like you and Burrows only cared about coin!”

She flung him back and his head hit the mantle with a crack.

“The world was a better place with her in it and it’ll be better once you’re gone from it!”

Emily clenched her fist and swung at his cheek. She knew better than to strike bone with her fists— that was an amateur mistake— but she wanted to feel the pain. She punched. Kicked. Emily even grabbed Daud by the collar and left a viscous scratch down the unscarred side of his face.

His hands remained limp at his sides.

“Hit back!” she screamed. “I’ll put up more of a fight than my mother did!” She kicked him square in the chest and Daud nearly crumpled into the fireplace. But he righted himself at the last moment and returned to his place in front of her, even as he struggled to breathe.

“Fight me!” Her shriek rattled the glasses on the nearby table. “Come on!”

“I’m not gonna lay a finger on you,” Daud said through labored gasps. “You have every right to kill me.”

Her hands sprung to Daud’s neck, both of them gripping the corded muscles tightly. She squeezed.

Daud’s sunken eyes popped wide and he croaked under the strain of her hands, but kept his arms at his sides.

She drove him back, until his shoulder blades pressed against the mantle. The lines in his face appeared deep in the shadow of the the soft spotlight aimed at the painting over his head.

The painting of her mother.

Emily felt Daud’s legs begin to give out and his eyes lost focus. A few more seconds and…

She released her grip and stumbled back. Her knees hit the plush carpet at the same moment her vomit splattered onto Daud’s shoes.

Emily sobbed through spit and tears, only distantly aware when Daud fell gasping to his knees a few feet away. She should have been worried about a counter attack, but the only thing Emily could focus on now was taking ragged breaths between dry heaves.

By the time she finally stopped crying and spitting pieces of dinner onto the floor, Daud had mostly recovered as well.

He looked to the portrait over their heads.

“I’d be lying if I said I hesitated that day. The weight of what I’d done didn’t hit me until later. But when it did…” He took a wheezing breath. “Well, it’d been a long time since killing made me feel dirty. And I knew I’d done something that’d have unintended consequences. For everyone.”

Emily’s upper lip curled. What did he think would happen when he cut the head off an empire?

“So you left Dunwall to start a new life? Spent your years since then saving orphans and nursing the sick?” she asked, voice laced with vitriol.

“No.” Daud hung his head. “I don’t trust myself to know what ‘good’ even is. I’d probably screw it up and hurt people by trying, so I settled for just doing no harm.”

Daud reached for something in the corner. The letter opener!

He extended the small blade to Emily, handle first. “I’ve learned that our choices always matter to someone, somewhere. And sooner or later, in ways we can't always fathom, the consequences come back to us.” He placed it on the floor at her knees. “I’m ready for what comes.”

Emily didn’t take it. Her throat burned and she shook her head furiously.Kneeling on the stinking carpet, the soft visage of her mother staring down at her, she knew she couldn’t do it.

“No,” she whispered.

Daud nodded his acceptance. “Prison then. That’s fair. A slow death in Coldridge is better revenge than an execution.”

Emily raised her eyes to his gaunt face in the firelight. A slow death was exactly what he deserved, and looking at him now, it dawned on her… Daud didn’t just look like shit. He looked like death. And the harshness of life on the run wasn’t the cause, was it?

“When your guards wake up, I’ll go quietly.” He toed the floor. “It could be a while though. I used a strong sedative. I wasn’t sure how long—”

“Shut up,” Emily snapped. “Stop. Talking.”

Her shoulders fell. The Void had beaten her to passing his death sentence. And he didn’t have long from the looks of him.

Emily pointed to the far window and squeezed her eyes shut. She just wanted him to leave. But when she opened her eyes again, he was still there!

“I mistook Corvo’s hesitation as mercy. I won’t make that mistake twice.” Daud met her eyes for the first time. “I don’t leave here unless you allow it.”

“This isn’t mercy,” she snarled. “And it isn’t forgiveness. It’s…” Something else. Something she didn’t have the words for.

“Go.” Emily’s tongue felt heavy with the weight of that word. “Crawl under a rock somewhere and die. But just… go.”

Daud opened his mouth like he was about to argue, but only silence fell from his lips. Finally, he turned his back and moved to the window. He cast a glance over his shoulder, as if giving her a chance to take it back. To order him inside and answer for his crimes.

She didn’t.

And then he was gone.

Emily sat on the floor, alone, numbly contemplating the consequences of her past choices. The Harpooners killed two people in Tyvia because of a tempting bounty and a moral loophole. Their successful hunt led a cult to a powerful artifact that might have eluded them otherwise. And now the world was under cosmic threat of destruction.

The Void bore the scars of her decisions. What would the consequences of killing Daud have been?

When the clock struck the hour— Emily didn’t look up or count the chimes to determine which— she finally rose from the floor. The 50-Year Plan was still open to Ceòl’s foreword on the desk.

> _Emily,_
> 
> _I knew you’d skip to the last volume. As you can see, I’ve left it blank. These pages are yours to write. This plan must be your own. Volumes 1-3 should serve you well, as will I in the coming years. But you must fill these pages yourself. These people are yours._
> 
> _Someone very ignorant once said something very wise: our choices always matter to someone, somewhere. And sooner or later, in ways we can't always fathom, the consequences come back to us._
> 
> _Make your choices, Empress Emily. And be ready for what comes._

Emily clumsily gripped a pen and hissed through the pain. She’d probably fractured her knuckles on Daud’s thick jaw. She addressed a letter to the head of the Salted Hagfish mercenary company, marked for urgent delivery, and sealed it with wax and her signet ring. Whatever the consequences of this action, she hoped her decision was the right one.

Written on the sealed piece of paper were only two words: _Bounty Rescinded._


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains canon character death. See end notes for details

Billie rested the back of her hand against Daud’s clammy brow. The dim lamplight in the keeper’s shack danced on the sheen of his sweaty skin. For nearly two weeks now, he’d lingered like this— too sick to take his own life and too stubborn to die naturally.

She looked to the filet knife on the table, still crusted with blood and fish scales from that morning’s catch. Cleaning the fish had been sloppy work. Even with the small clamp that pinned the fish tail to the table, it was no replacement for a second steady hand.

Billie swallowed thickly. If she had any mercy in her she’d grab that thin blade and end him quickly. But every time she wrapped her fingers around the handle, the knife shook in her grip. Since when did her hand shake before a kill?

A cargo vessel sounded its horn and Billie glanced up from her place at Daud’s bedside. Her eye snapped wide. The ship was sailing too close! Nothing actually came to this hunk of rock. The lighthouse on the tail end of this rocky archipelago only served as a way for ships to avoid crashing here. And her monthly supply boat wasn’t due for another two weeks.

She rose slowly, careful not to wake Daud. The ship dropped anchor at a safe distance. Billie squinted her eye and saw some commotion on deck, then a skiff lowered into the water. 

Billie’s hand relaxed at her side. He came.

She wrapped herself in an oiled leather cloak and walked down to the small dock. The warped wood creaked under her feet and the bollards were half-rotted. Her contract as lighthouse keeper was coming to an end soon and it’d be the next keeper’s problem to deal with.

But Ceòl made no complaint about the state of things as he tied off and climbed ashore. Instead, he stood on the rotting dock and looked up towards the lighthouse for a solid minute. His eyes went wide as something like recognition washed across his features. He shook it off quickly, equipping a calm smile in its place.

She waved for him to follow her. He carried a small crate with basic medical supplies, as well as a satchel he kept slung over his shoulder as they walked towards the shack at the base of the lighthouse.

Ceòl’s voice was soft against the buffeting ocean winds. “Is he still…”

“He’s the same as when I wrote you.” She blinked away the stinging in her eye. “You got here fast. I figured you’d be starting at the Academy soon.”

“Classes began yesterday.” He waved a hand. “But I got permission to begin my courses a few weeks late.”

“Don’t fall behind your classmates,” she teased.

He grinned, though the mirth didn’t reach his eyes. “I think I’ll be fine.”

Billie paused at the door to the ramshackle cottage she and Daud had called home for nearly a year. “He wakes a few times a day to take a piss or wash himself a little. But other than that…” Her short fingernails dug into her palm. “I hope those Ascended bastards are all dead.”

Ceòl didn’t answer, which meant a few of them probably didn’t have the balls to “become one with the Void” in the end. But that wasn’t important at the moment so Billie swallowed her rage.

She shouldered the door open— the wood tended to stick in the frame— and cringed at the smell of bile and sick sweat inside. Her nose was blind to it most of the time, but whenever she left to tend the light or walk the island and think, she’d get hit with it as soon as she came back.

Ceòl didn’t mention it. He was all business as he made his way to the bed. He checked Daud’s breathing and pulse. Then he did something with a portable machine— no bigger than a bread box— and taped the ends of some wires to Daud’s chest. The little box spit out a piece of paper with lines on it and Ceòl frowned.

“He’s held on all this time?”

Billie huffed. “He’s stubborn.”

“Yes, he is.” Ceòl untaped the wires and opened his satchel. The alchemical supplies were neatly organized in labeled glass bottles. Ceòl laid them all out on the table and began precisely measuring and mixing.

Daud groaned awake.

“Hey, old man.” Billie retook her seat by his bed. “Look who’s here.”

“Took him long enough,” he grumbled. Daud’s breathing was ragged as he watched Ceòl work. “You come alone?”

Ceòl’s hands paused on the mortar and pestle. “Yes.”

“Thought he’d wanna see this. Celebrate.”

“No.” Ceòl finished grinding the herbs and poured them into an oily mixture over a flame. “Corvo wishes you a peaceful passing.”

“Better than I deserve,” Daud whispered.

Billie’s gut twisted. “Hush.”

The next few minutes were filled with the sound of wind rattling the shack’s frame and Ceòl grinding things into powder. Daud’s breathing was labored and hollow but he hadn’t coughed in days. It’d be over soon.

Billie clasped Daud’s hand in hers. She wished his last year hadn’t been spent alone on a deserted island, with only her dour personality for company. But with the scattered members of the Eyeless hunting them, they’d been forced to sit back while the Grand Guard and the Howlers picked the gang off one by one.

Then, a few weeks ago, Daud took a turn. Somehow, Billie knew this was the end. When she sent word to Dunwall via her monthly supply boat, she hoped Daud would have passed peacefully by the time her letter arrived.

But since when did either of them have that kind of luck?

“There was a feeling,” Daud rasped weakly. “Just as I pulled my arm back to make the killing blow. Like a thin string attached to my wrist. Tugging. Something telling me to stop.” He struggled for his next breath. “I ripped right through that hesitation and drove the blade through her. I felt that string snap when I did.”

Billie noticed Ceòl’s shoulders tense up, but he didn’t comment and continued his work.

“Just relax, Daud.” Billie stroked the loose skin covering his bony hands. “That doesn’t matter now.”

But his eyes were locked onto Ceòl’s back as he tapped the final ingredients into the bubbling concoction. “Tell me about… about what might’ve happened if I’d… made a different choice.”

“Don’t torture yourself,” Ceòl said without taking his eyes off the mixture. “Not at the end.”

“Not torture,” Daud gasped in a struggled inhale. “I wanna know that… that some other version of me did better. That in all the infinite ways things could’ve played out, they weren’t all like this.”

Ceòl removed the concoction from the flame and set it aside to cool. He dragged a stool over to Daud’s bed and sighed.

“You could have done better. You also could have done far worse. In the end, I hope it’s enough that Emily chose to let go.” He paused and added, “You need to let go as well.”

Daud turned his face into the pillow and nodded. “I’m ready.”

Billie helped him sit upright, hand braced against his knobby spine, and Ceòl passed him the cup of poison.

Daud held it between both hands and took a whiff. “Mint?” he asked with a half-smile.

Ceòl just shrugged.

Billie’s chest heaved as Daud raised the cup to his lips and drank it down in three thick gulps.

“How long?” Daud asked him.

“A few minutes.”

He nodded. “Can I speak to Billie alone?”

“I’ll be outside,” Ceòl said.

Daud laid back down and took her hand. “Proud of you,” he said, barely above a whisper. “You always were better than me. Knew that from the moment I found you on the street.”

“Daud, I—” she choked.

“I screwed up your whole life, taking you in. But you had potential and I was selfish.”

“As if you kept me prisoner?” she scoffed. “I could’ve left the Whalers if I wanted. Staying was my choice.” She looked to her right side, at the stump that still made Daud furrow his brow and turn his head away. “That was my choice too. You’ve gotten me into a lot of shit, but I always dove in head-first trying to impress you. I can’t blame anyone but myself for that.”

She sniffled. “I’m just sorry you had to spend your last days here on this cold windy rock with me. You should’ve been somewhere nice, sipping wine by a fire.”

Daud squeezed her hand. “Billie, there’s no place I’d rather be.” He smiled when she rolled her eye. “I’m serious. This last year’s been the first time I can ever remember where I wasn’t constantly looking over my shoulder. No worrying about old rivals or bounty hunters. No scanning rooftops and windows for snipers. I had some peace, and time with a good friend.”

Daud’s eyelids hung heavy and his shoulders relaxed. “You and Ceòl are gonna figure all this out— stabilizing the Void without killing an innocent. I know you will.”

Billie clenched her jaw to stop the trembling in her cheeks. “I don’t how much help I’ll be to him. But I’ll do my best.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” he whispered on a shaky exhale. “You’re special.”

His grip relaxed and his eyes slid shut. Billie squeezed his frail fingers, as if she could hold tight enough to keep him from Void.

But he was gone.

When there were no more tears, Billie rose on shaking legs to find Ceòl. Daud had picked a spot where he wanted to be buried, and since she couldn’t do any digging with one arm she’d need him to take on that burden as well. But when she went to the supply closet, the shovel was gone!

Ceòl wasn’t under the small awning outside. And he wasn’t at the dock where his skiff was tied off. She noticed the cargo vessel was still anchored just outside the jetties too. It was probably waiting to take Ceòl back later today or tomorrow. But where was he? Had he climbed the lighthouse?

The sound of metal hitting dirt drew her attention and Billie descended the rickety stairs to the small plateau just below the lighthouse. It was one of the only places on the island where anything grew.

And there Ceòl was, digging in the exact spot Daud had picked out when they’d first arrived here! He must have started as soon as he left the shack because the grave was already dug shin-deep.

Ceòl turned to face her. Dirt and sweat streaked his forehead and he’d rolled up his sleeves for the job. Corvo had obviously stepped up Ceòl’s combat training because his forearms were noticeably more muscular than the last time they’d seen each other.

She sat on a nearby rocky outcropping and Ceòl continued digging. It was nearly dark by the time he finished, chest heaving and clothes covered in filth.

Billie braced herself at the edge of the deep hole and extended a hand to lift him out.

“Thanks. I wouldn’t have been able to dig that on my own. Would’ve had to put him in the water.”

Ceòl clasped her shoulder and squeezed. “I was happy to do it.”

He carried Daud to the burial site. Billie knew the old man was thin but seeing Ceòl lift and carry him so easily was jarring. He slid Daud into the grave as gently as he could. There was no coffin or shroud— just Daud and the dirt.

It’s what he wanted. 

He didn’t want a bunch of words said or songs sung at the graveside either. Daud knew how she felt and said talking to corpses wasn’t productive. She nodded to Ceòl and he began to fill in the lonely grave overlooking the sea. He worked by moonlight as Billie shed one last tear.

They sat together when it was done and passed a bottle of wine back and forth.

“My contract here is up in two weeks when the supply boat brings my replacement. I’ll meet you in Dunwall.”

Ceòl took a swig from the bottle. “I have my eye on a few possible recruits. But I want to take this slow. Rushing to read in the wrong people would be more dangerous than doing nothing.”

“Agreed.” She took the bottle. “If it takes years before we tell anyone outside our inner circle, that’s fine. It’ll give us time to figure out…” She chuckled, despite herself. “… how to ‘save the world.’” She drank and passed the bottle again.

Ceòl raised the bottle to the sky, as if toasting the moon. “To saving the world.”

Billie smiled. For the first time, it didn’t sound so crazy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character death via assisted euthanasia.  
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
> 
> I can't believe it's over!!! I've been writing this series on and off for nearly three years! While I have the next 50 years of Ceòl's human life planned in my head, I'm not sure I'll ever get around to writing it all out. So, for now I'm going to mark the series as complete! 
> 
> IF I ever change my mind and start posting again, it'll be a continuation of the series rather than a new one. So if you wanted to subscribe to the series just in case, feel free. But I can't promise it'll happen.
> 
> I hope these fics brought you some entertainment and maybe even a little happiness. THANK YOU to everyone who read, left kudos and commented over the years. Know that I read and re-read every single comment, even if it was just keysmashes or emojis. They all meant the world to me. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Come follow me on [tumblr!](https://soontobecyborg.tumblr.com/)


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